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The Waking Soul . — Frontispiece. 






JOCK O’ DREAMS 


BY 

JULIE M. LIPPMANN 

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Ellustrateti bg 

JESSIE MCDERMOTT 



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Copyright, 1891, 

By Roberts Brothers. 


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Hntocrsttg Press: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 


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TO 


LULU AND MARIE. 









CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


The Waking Soul 9 

Betty’s By-and-by 35 

The White Angel 65 

In the Pied Piper’s Mountain .... 81 

Marjorie’s Miracle .109 

What Happened to Lionel 137 

Marie and the Meadow-Brook .... 173 

Nina’s Christmas Gifts 189 




THE WAKING SOUL. 






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JOCK O’ DREAMS. 


THE WAKING SOUL 

RRY lay under the trees 
upon the soft, green grass, 
with his hat tilted far for- 
ward over his eyes and his grimy hands 
clasped together beneath his head, wish- 
ing with all his might first one thing 
and then another, but always that it 
was not so warm. 

When the children had gone to 
school in the morning, they had seen 
Larry’s figure, as they passed along the 
street, stretched out full-length beneath 
the trees near the gutter curbstone ; and 





io Jock O' Dreams. 

when they returned, there he was still 
They looked at him with curiosity ; and 
some of the boys even paused beside 
him and bent over to see if he were 
sunstruck. He let them talk about 
him and discuss him and wonder at 
him as they would, never stirring, and 
scarcely daring to breathe, lest they be 
induced to stay and question him. He 
wanted to be alone. He wanted to lie 
lazily under the trees, and watch the 
sunbeams as they flirted with the leaves, 
and hear the birds gossip with one an- 
other, and feel the breeze as it touched 
his hot temples and soothed him with 
its soft caresses. 

Across the street, upon some one’s 
fence-rail, climbed a honeysuckle vine; 
and every now and then Larry caught 
a whiff of a faint perfume as the breeze 
flitted by. He wished the breeze would 


The Waking Soul . 


i r 

carry heavier loads of it and come 
oftener. It was tantalizing to get just 
one breath and no more in this way. 

But then, that was always the case 
with Larry ; he seemed to get a hint 
of so many things, and no more than 
that of any. Often when he was lying as 
he was now, under green trees, beneath 
blue skies, he would see the most beau- 
tiful pictures before his eyes. Some- 
times they were the clouds that drew 
them for him, and sometimes the trees. 
He would, perhaps, be feeling particu- 
larly forlorn and tired, and would fling 
himself down to rest, and then in a mo- 
ment — just for all the world as though 
the skies were sorry for him and wanted 
to help him forget his troubles — -he 
would see the white drifts overhead 
shift and change, and there would be 
the vision of a magnificent man larger 


12 


Jock O' Dreams. 


and more beautiful than any mortal ; 
and then Larry would hold his breath 
in ecstasy, while the man’s face grew 
graver and darker, and his strong arm 
seemed to lift and beckon to something 
from afar, and then from out a great 
stack of clouds would break one milk- 
white one which, when Larry looked 
closer, would prove to be a colossal 
steed ; and in an instant, in the most 
remarkable way, the form of the man 
would be mounted upon the back of 
the courser and then would be speed- 
ing off toward the west. And then 
Larry would lose sight of them, just 
at the very moment when he would 
have given worlds to see more ; for by 
this time the skies would have grown 
black, perhaps, and down would come 
the rain in perfect torrents, sending 
Larry to his feet and scuttling off into 


*3 


The Waking Soul. 

somebody’s area-way for shelter. And 
there he would crouch and think about 
his vision, fancying to himself his great 
warrior doing battle with the sea ; the 
sea lashing up its wave-horses till they 
rose high upon their haunches, their 
gray backs curving outward, their foamy 
manes a-quiver, their white forelegs 
madly pawing the air, till with a wild 
whinny they would plunge headlong 
upon the beach, to be pierced by the 
thousand rain-arrows the cloud-god sent 
swirling down from above, and sink 
backward faint and trembling to be 
overtaken and trampled out of sight 
by the next frenzied column behind. 

Oh ! it sent Larry’s blood tingling 
through his veins to see it all so 
plainly ; and he did not feel the chill 
of his wet rags about him, nor the 
clutch of hunger in his poor, empty 


14 Jock O' Dreams . 

stomach, when the Spirit of the Storm 
rode out, before his very eyes, to wage 
his mighty war. And then at other 
times it would all be quite different, and 
he would see the figures of beautiful 
maidens in gossamer garments, and they 
would seem to be at play, flinging 
flecks of sunlight this way and that, or 
winding and unwinding their flaky veils 
to fling them saucily across the face of 
the sun. 

But none of these wondrous visions 
lasted. They remained long enough to 
wake in Larry’s heart a great longing 
for more, and then they would disap- 
pear and he would be all the lonelier 
for the lack of them. That was the 
greatest of his discouragements. What 
would he care for heat or cold or hun- 
ger or thirst if he could only capture 
these fleeting pictures once for all, so 


i5 


The Waking Soul. 

that he could always gaze at them and 
dream over them and make them his 
forever ! 

That was one of the things for which 
Larry was wishing as he lay under the 
trees that summer day. He was think- 
ing: “ If there was only some way of 
getting them down from there ! It seems 
to me I ’d do anything in the world to 
be able to get them down from there. 
I — " 

“ No, you would n’t.” said a low voice 
next his ear, — “ no, you would n’t. 
You’d lie here and wish and wonder 
all day long, but you would n’t take the 
first step to bring your pictures down 
from heaven.” 

For a moment Larry was so mightily 
surprised that he found himself quite 
at a loss for words, for there was no 
one near to be seen who could possibly 


1 6 Jock O Dreams. 

have addressed him ; but presently he 
gained voice to say, — 

“ Oh, I know 1 could n’t get ’em o’ 
course. Folks can’t reach up and bring 
clouds down out o’ de sky.” 

“ I did n’t say anything about clouds 
nor about the sky,” returned the voice. 
“ I was speaking about pictures and 
heaven. Folks can reach up and bring 
pictures down out of heaven. It ’s 
done every day. Geniuses do it.” 

“ Who is geniuses ? ” asked untaught 
Larry. 

“ People who can get near enough 
heaven to catch glimpses of its won- 
derful beauty and paint it on canvas or 
carve it in marble for the world to see, 
or who hear snatches of its music and 
set them upon paper for the world to 
hear ; and they are called artists and 
sculptors and composers and poets.” 


The Waking Soul. 17 

“ What takes ’em up to heaven ? ” 
queried Larry. 

“ Inspiration,” answered the voice. 

“ I don’t know o’ that. I never seen 
it,” the boy returned. “ Is it death ? ” 

“ No ; it is life. But you would n’t 
understand if I could explain it, which 
I cannot. No one understands it. But 
it is there just the same. You have it, 
but you do not know how to use it 
yet. You never will unless you do 
something besides lie beneath the trees 
and dream. Why can’t you do some- 
thing?” 

“ Oh, I ’m tired with all the things 
I ’m not doin’ ! ” said Larry, in his petu- 
lant, whimsical way. 

For a little the voice was silent, and 
Larry was beginning to fear it had fled 
and deserted him like all the rest ; when 
it spoke again, in its low-toned mur- 


1 8 Jock O' Dreams. 

mur, like the breath of a breeze, and 
said, — 

“ It is cruel to make a good wish and 
then leave it to wander about the world 
weak and struggling; always trying to 
be fulfilled and never succeeding be- 
cause it is not given strength enough. 
It makes a nameless want in the world, 
and people’s hearts ache for it and 
long to be satisfied. They somehow 
feel there is somewhere a blessing 
that might be blesseder, a beauty that 
should be more beautiful. It is then 
that the little unfledged wish is near, 
and they feel its longing to be made 
complete, — to be given wings and power 
to rise to heaven. Yes ; one ought not 
to make a good wish and let it go, — not 
to perish (for nothing is lost in this 
world), but to be unfulfilled forever. 
One ought to strengthen it day by day 


9 


The Waking Soul. i 

until it changes from a wish to an en- 
deavor, and then day by day from an 
endeavor to an achievement, and then 
the world is better for it and glad of 
it, and its record goes above. If all 
the people who wish to do wonderful 
things did them, how blessed it would 
be ! If all the people who wish to be 
good were good, ah, then there would 
be no more disappointment nor tears 
nor heartache in the world ! ” 

Larry pondered an instant after the 
voice had ceased, and then said slowly : 
“I kind o’ think I know what you mean. 
You think Ld ought to be workin’. 
But what could I do ? There ain’t 
nothin’ I could be doin’.” 

“ Did n’t I hear you complaining of 
me a little while ago, because I did not 
carry heavy enough loads of honey- 
suckle scent and did not come often 


20 Jock O' Dreams . 

enough ? I carried all I was able to 
bear, for I am not very strong nowa- 
days, and I came as often as I could. 
In fact, I did my best the first thing 
that came to hand. I want you to 
do the same. That is duty. I don’t 
bear malice toward you because you 
were dissatisfied with me. You did 
not know. If you tried the best you 
could and people complained, you ought 
not to let their discontent discourage 
you. I brought you a whiff of per- 
fume ; you can bring some one a sin- 
cere effort. By and by, when I am 
stronger and can blow good gales and 
send the great ships safely into port and 
waft to land the fragrant smell of their 
spicy cargo, you may be doing some 
greater work and giving the world 
something it has been waiting for.” 

“ The world don’t wait for things,” 


The Waking Soul. 


21 


said Larry. “ It goes right on ; it 
does n’t care. I ’m hungry and ragged, 
and I have n’t no place to sleep ; but 
the world ain’t a-waitin’ fer me ter get 
things ter eat, ner does to me back, 
ner a soft bed. It ain’t a- waiting fer 
nothin’, as I can see.” 

“ It does not stand still,” replied the 
voice ; “ but it is waiting, nevertheless. 
If you are expecting a dear, dear per- 
son — your mother, for instance — ” 

“ I ain’t got no mother,” interrupted 
Larry, with a sorrowful sigh ; “ she 
died.” 

44 Well, then — your sister,” suggested 
the voice. 

44 1 ain’t got no sister. I ain’t got 
nobody. I ’m all by meself,” insisted 
the boy. 

44 Then suppose, for years and years 
you have been dreaming of a friend 


22 


Jock O' Dreams. 


who is to fill your world with beauty 
as no one else could do, — who among 
all others in the world will be the only 
one who could show you how fair life 
is. While you would not stand still 
and do nothing what time you were 
watching for her coming, you would 
be always waiting for her, and when 
she was there you would be glad. That 
is how the world feels about its gen- 
iuses, — those whom it needs to make 
it more wonderful and great. It is 
waiting for you. Don’t disappoint it 
It would make you sad unto death if 
the friend of whom you had dreamed 
should not come at last, would it not ? ” 
Larry nodded his head in assent. 
“ Does it always know ’em ? ” he asked. 
“ I mean does the world always be sure 
when the person comes it ’s the one it 
dreamed of? Mebbe I’d be dreamin’ 


2.1 


The Waking Soul. 

of some one who was beautiful, and 
mebbe the real one would n’t look like 
what I thought, and I ’d let her go by.” 

“Ah, little Lawrence, the world has 
failed so too. It has let its beloved 
ones go by; and then, when it was too 
late, it has called after them in pleading 
to return. They never come back, but 
the world keeps repeating their names 
forever. That is its punishment and 
their fame.” 

“What does it need me for?” asked 
Larry. 

“ It needs you to paint for it the 
pictures you see amid the clouds and 
on the earth.” 

u Can’t they see ’em ? ” queried the 
boy, 

“ No, not as you can. Their sight is 
not clear enough. God wants them to 
know of it, and so He sends them you 


24 


Jock O' Dreams. 


to make it plain to them. It is as 
though you went to a foreign country 
where the people’s speech was strange 
to you. You could not know their 
meaning unless some one who under- 
stood their language and yours trans- 
lated it for you. He would be the 
only one who could make their mean- 
ing clear to you. He would be an 
interpreter.” 

“ How am I to get that thing you 
spoke about that ’d take me up to 
heaven, so’s I could bring down the 
beautiful things I see ? ” inquired Larry. 
“Where is it?" 

“ Inspiration ? ” asked the voice. 
“That is everywhere, — all about you, 
within and without you. You have 
only to pray to be given sight clear 
enough to see it and power to use it. 
But now I must leave you. I have 


The Wakmg Soul ’ 


25 


given you my message ; give the world 
yours. Good-by, Lawrence, good-by ; ” 
and the voice had ceased. 

Larry stretched out his hands and 
cried, “ Come back, oh, come back ! ” 

But the echo of his own words was 
all he heard in response. He lay quite 
motionless and still for some time after 
that, thinking about all the voice had 
said to him ; and when finally he pushed 
his hat back from before his eyes, he 
saw the starlit sky smiling down upon 
him benignantly. And then, from be- 
hind a dark cloud he saw the radiant 
moon appear, and it seemed to him like 
the most beautiful woman’s face he 
could imagine, peering out from the 
shadow of her own dusky hair to wel- 
come the night. 

He got upon his feet as well as he 
could, for he was very stiff with lying 


26 


Jock O' Dreams . 


so long, and stumbled on toward some 
dark nook or cranny where he could 
huddle unseen until the morning; his 
head full of plans for the morrow, and 
his heart beating high with courage 
and hope. 

He would dream no more, but labor. 
He would work at the first thing that 
came to hand, and then, perhaps, that 
wonderful thing which the voice had 
called inspiration would come to him, 
and he would be able to mount to 
heaven on it and bring down to earth 
some of the glorious things he saw. 
He thought inspiration must be some 
sort of a magical ladder that was in- 
visible to all but those given special 
sight to see and power to use it. If 
he ever caught a glimpse of it he in- 
tended to take hold at once and climb 
straight up to the blessed regions above; 


The Waking Soul. 27 

and dreaming of all he would see there, 
he fell asleep. 

In the morning he was awake bright 
and early, and stretching himself with 
a long-drawn yawn, set out to find some 
way of procuring for himself a break- 
fast. First at one shop-door and then 
at another he stopped, popping in his 
shaggy head and asking the man inside, 
“Give me a job, Mister ? ” and being 
in reply promptly invited to “clear 
out ! ” 

But it took more than this to dis- 
courage Larry, heartened as he was by 
the remembrance of his visions of the 
day before; and on and on he went, 
until, at last, in answer to his question 
— and just as he was about to with- 
draw his head from the door of the 
express-office into which he had popped 
it a moment before — he was bidden to 


28 


Jock O Dreams . 


say what it was he could do. Almost too 
surprised at the change in greeting to be 
able to reply, he stumbled back into the 
place and stood a moment in rather 
stupid silence before his questioner. 

“ Well, ain’t yer got no tongue in yer 
head, young feller ? Seemed ter have a 
minute ago. Ef yer can’t speak up no 
better ’n this, yer ain’t the boy fer us.” 

But by this time Larry had recovered 
himself sufficiently to blurt out : “ I kin 
lift an’ haul an’ run errants an’ do all 
sorts o’ work about the place. Won’t 
ye try me, Mister? Lemme carry out 
that box ter show ye how strong I am ; ” 
and suiting the action to the words, 
he shouldered a heavy packing-case and 
was out upon the sidewalk and deposit- 
ing it upon a wagon, already piled with 
trunks and luggage, before the man 
had time to reply. 


The Waking Soul. 


29 


When he returned to the door-step 
he was greeted with the grateful intelli- 
gence that he might stay a bit and see 
how he got along as an errand-boy if 
he liked; and, of course, liking , he 
started in at once upon his new office. 

That was the beginning. It gave 
him occupation and food, but scarcely 
more than that at first. He had no 
time for dreaming now, but often when 
he had a brief moment to himself would 
take out of his pocket the piece of chalk 
with which he marked the trunks he 
carried, and sketch with it upon some 
rough box-lid or other the picture of a 
face or form which he saw in his fancy ; 
so that after a time he was known 
among the men as “ the artist feller,” 
and grew to have quite a little reputa- 
tion among them. 

How the rest came about even Larry 


30 Jock O' Dreams. 

himself found it hard to tell. But by 
and by he was drawing with pencil 
and pen, and selling his sketches for 
what he could get, buying now a brush 
and then some paints with the scanty 
proceeds, and working upon his bits 
of canvas with all the ardor of a Ra- 
phael himself. 

A man sat before an easel in a 
crowded studio one day, giving the last 
touch to a painting that stood before 
him. It pictured the figure of a lad, 
ragged and forlorn, lying asleep beneath 
some sheltering trees. At first that 
seemed all there was to be seen upon 
the canvas ; but if one looked closer one 
was able to discover another figure amid 
the vaporous, soft glooms of the place. 
It grew ever more distinct, until one had 
no difficulty in distinguishing the form 


The Waking Soul. 31 

of a maiden, fair and frail as a dream. 
She was bending over the slumbering 
body of the boy, as if to arouse him to 
life by the whispered words she was 
breathing against his cheek. 

The artist scrawled his signature in 
the corner of his completed work and 
set the canvas in its frame, and then 
stood before it, scrutinizing it closely. 

‘“The Waking Soul ! ’ — I wonder if 
that is a good name for it ? ” murmured 
he to himself. And then, after a mo- 
ment, he said to the pictured lad, — 

“ Well, Larry, little fellow, the dream ’s 
come true ; and here we are, you and I, 
— you, Larry, and I, Lawrence, — with 
the ‘ wish grown strong to an endeavor, 
and the endeavor to an achievement.’ 
Are you glad, Boy?” 





s 


BETTY’S BY-AND-BY. 



3 




BETTY’S BY-AN D-BY. 


“ * One, two, three ! 

The humble-bee ! 

The rooster crows, 

And away she goes. ! ’ ” 

ND down from the low railing 
of the piazza jumped Betty 
into the soft heap of new- 
mown grass that seemed to have been 
especially placed where it could tempt 
her and make her forget — or, at least, 
“ not remember ” — that she was wanted 
indoors to help amuse the baby for an 
hour. 

It was a hot summer day, and Betty 
had been running and jumping and 
skipping and prancing all the morning, 
so she was now rather tired ; and after 



36 


Jock O' Dreams. 


she had jumped from the piazza-rail 
into the heap of grass she did not hop 
up nimbly at once, but lay quite still, 
burying her face in the sweet-smelling 
hay and fragrant clover, feeling very 
comfortable and contented. 

“ Betty ! Betty ! ” 

“ Oh dear ! ” thought the little maid, 
diving still deeper into the light grass, 
“there’s Olga calling me to take care 
of Roger while she gets his bread and 
milk ready. I don’t see why she can’t 
wait a minute till I rest. It ’s too hot 
now. Baby can do without his dinner 
for a minute, I should think, — just a 
minute or so. He won’t mind. He ’s 
glad to wait if only you give him 
Mamma’s chain and don’t take away 
her watch. Ye-es, Olga, — I ’ll come — 
by and by.” 

A big velvety humble-bee came, 


Betty s By-and-by . 


37 


boom ! against Betty’s head, and got 
tangled in her hair. He shook himself 
free and went reeling on his way in 
quite a drunken fashion, thinking prob- 
ably that was a very disagreeable va- 
riety of dandelion he had stumbled 
across, — quite too large and fluffy for 
comfort, though it was such a pretty 
yellow. 

Betty lazily raised her head and 
peered after him. “ I wonder where 
you ’re going,” she said, half aloud. 

The humble-bee veered about and 
came bouncing back in her direction 
again, and when he reached the little 
grass-heap in which she lay, stopped 
so suddenly that he went careering over 
in the most ridiculous fashion possible, 
and Betty laughed aloud. But to her 
amazement the humble-bee righted him- 
self in no time at all, and then remarked 


Jock O' Dreams . 


in quite a dignified manner and with 
some asperity, — 

“ If I were a little girl with gilt hair 
and were n’t doing what I ought, and if 
I had wondered where a body was going 
and the body had come back expressly 
to tell me, I think I ’d have the polite- 
ness not to laugh if the body happened 
to lose his balance and fall, — especially 
when the body was going to get up in 
less time than it would take me to wink, 
— I being only a little girl, and he be- 
ing a most respected member of the 
Busy-bee Society. However, I suppose 
one must make allowances for the way 
in which children are brought up nowa- 
days. When I was a little — ” 

“ Now, please don’t say, ‘When I was 
a little girl,’ — for you never were a 
little girl, you know,” interrupted Betty, 
not intending to be saucy, but feeling 


Betty s By-and-by. 


39 


rather provoked that a mere humble-bee 
should undertake to rebuke her. “ Mam- 
ma always says, ‘When I was a little 
girl/ and so does Aunt Louie, and so 
does everybody ; and I ’m tired of hear- 
ing about it, so there ! ” 

The humble-bee gave his gorgeous 
waistcoat a pull which settled it more 
smoothly over his stout person, and 
remarked shortly, — 

“In the first place, I was n’t going 
to say, ‘ When I was a little girl.’ I 
was going to say, ‘ When I was a little 
leaner ,’ but you snapped me up so. 
However, it’s true, isn’t it? Every- 
body was a little girl once, were n’t 
she ? — was n’t they ? — hem ! — confus- 
ing weather for talking, very! And 
what is true one ought to be glad to 
hear, eh ? ” 

“ But it is n’t true that everybody was 


40 Jock O' Dreams . 

once a little girl ; some- were little boys. 
There ! ” 

“ Do you know,” whispered the hum- 
ble-bee, in a very impressive undertone, 
as if it were a secret that he did not 
wish any one else to hear, “ that you are 
a very re-mark-a-ble young person to 
have been able to remind me, at a mo- 
ment’s notice, that some were little 
boys ? Why-ee ! ” 

Betty was a trifle uncomfortable. She 
had a vague idea the humble-bee was 
making sport of her. The next moment 
she was sure of it; for he burst into a 
deep laugh, and shook so from side to 
side that she thought he would surely 
topple off the wisp of hay on which 
he was sitting. 

“ I think you ’re real mean,” said 
Betty, as he slowly recovered himself ; “ I 
don’t like folks to laugh at me, now ! ” 






















































































































































































































































— 
























































» 







































































































“ And now Betty discovered, on seeing him more closely, that he was not a 
humble-bee at all, but just a very corpulent old gentleman dressed in quite an antique 
fashion.” — Page 41. 


4i 


Betty s By-and-by. 

“ I’m not laughing at you now” ex- 
plained the humble-bee, gravely; “ I was 
laughing at you then . Do you object 
to that ? ” 

Betty disdained to reply, and be- 
gan to pull a dry clover-blossom to 
pieces. 

“ Tut, tut, child ! Don’t be so touchy ! 
A body can laugh, can’t he, and no 
harm done ? You ’d better be good- 
tempered and jolly, and then I ’ll tell 
you where I ’m going, — which, I believe, 
was what you wished to know in the 
first place, was n’t it ? ” 

Betty nodded her head, but did not 
speak. 

“ Oho ! ” said the humble-bee, rising 
and preparing to take his departure. 
And now Betty discovered, on seeing 
him more closely, that he was not a 
humble-bee at all, but just a very cor- 


42 


Jock O Dreams . 


pulent old gentleman dressed in quite 
an antique fashion, with black knee- 
breeches, black silk stockings, black 
patent-leather pumps with large buckles, 
a most elaborate black velvet waistcoat 
with yellow and orange stripes across, 
and a coat of black velvet to correspond 
with the breeches ; while in his hand 
he carried a very elegant three-cornered 
hat, which, out of respect to her, he 
had removed from his head at the first 
moment of their meeting. “ So we are 
sulky ? ” he went on. “ Dear, dear ! 
That is a very disagreeable condition 
to allow one’s self to relapse into. H’m, 
h’m! very unpleasant, very ! Under the 
circumstances I think I ’d better be go- 
ing ; for if you ’ll believe me, I ’m pressed 
for time, and have none to waste, and 
only came back to converse with you 
because you addressed a civil question 


Betty s By-and-by. 


43 


to me, which, being a gentleman, I was 
bound to answer. Good — ” 

He would have said “ by ; ” but Betty 
sprang to her feet and cried : “ Please 
don’t leave me. I ’ll be good and pleas- 
ant, only please don’t go. Please tell 
me where you ’re going, and if — if you 
would be so good, I ’d like ever and ever 
so much to go along. Don’t — do — 
may I ? ” 

The little gentleman looked her over 
from head to foot, and then replied in a 
hesitating sort of way: “You may not 
be aware of it, but you are extremely in- 
cautious. What would you do if I were 
to whisk you off and never bring you 
back, eh ? ” 

“You don’t look like a kidnapper, 
sir,” said Betty, respectfully. 

“A what?” inquired the little 
gentleman. 


V 


44 


Jock O' Dreams . 


“ A kidnapper,” repeated Betty. 

“ What ’s that ? ” questioned her 
companion. 

“ Oh, a person who steals little chil- 
dren. Don’t you know?” 

“But why kidnapper ?" insisted the 
little old man. 

“ I suppose because he naps kids. 
My uncle Will calls Roger and me 
‘ kids.’ It is n't very nice of him, is 
it ? ” she asked, glad to air her grievance. 

“ Child-stealer would be more to the 
point, I think, or infant-abductor,” re- 
marked the old gentleman, who saw, 
perhaps, how anxious Betty was for 
sympathy, and was determined not to 
give her another opportunity of consid- 
ering herself injured. 

He seemed to be very busy consider- 
ing the subject for a second or so, and 
then he said suddenly : “ But if you 


45 


Betty s By-and-by . 

want to go, why, come along, for I must 
be off. But don’t make a practice of it, 
mind, when you get back.” 

“You haven’t told me where yet,” 
suggested Betty. 

“ True ; so I have n’t,” said the old 
gentleman, setting his three-cornered hat 
firmly on his head and settling the fine 
laces at his wrists. “ It ’s to By-and-by. 
And now, if you ’re ready, off we go ! ” 

He took Betty’s hand, and she sud- 
denly found herself moving through the 
air in a most remarkable manner, — not 
touching the ground with her feet, but 
seeming to skim along quite easily and 
with no effort at all. 

“ If you please, Mr. — ” She paused 
because she suddenly remembered that 
she did not know the name of the gen- 
tleman who was conducting her on so 
delightful a journey. 


46 


Jock O' Dreams. 


“ Bombus,” said he, cheerfully, — “ B. 
Bombus, Esq., of Clovertop Manse, 
Honeywell.” 

“ But you ’re not a minister, are 
you ? ” inquired Betty. 

“ No; why ? ” returned the gentle- 
man, quickly. 

“ Because you said ‘ Manse.’ A 
manse is a minister’s house, is n’t it ? ” 
asked Betty. 

“ No, not always,” Bombus replied. 
“ But I call my place Clovertop Manse 
because it belongs to me and not to my 
wife, do you see ? I call it Manse be- 
cause it is a man’s. It is perfectly plain. 
If it was a woman’s, I ’d say so.” 

“ Well, I don’t think you ’re much of 
a humble - bee — ” began Betty, and then 
caught herself up short and stopped. 

Mr. Bombus gave her a severe look 
from under his three-cornered hat, but 


Betty's By-and-by. 


47 


did not reply at once, and they ad- 
vanced on their way for some little time 
in silence. Then the gentleman said : 

“ I ’ve been thinking of what you said 
about my not being a humble-bee. Of 
course I am not a humble-bee, but you 
seemed to lay considerable stress on the 
first part of the word, as if you had a 
special meaning. Explain ! ” 

Poor Betty blushed very red with 
shame and confusion ; but the gentleman 
had a commanding way with him and 
she dared not disobey. 

“ I only meant, sir,” she stammered, — 
“I only meant — I — didn’t think you 
were very humble, because you seemed 
very proud about the place being yours. 
I thought you were ‘stuck up,’ as my 
brother says.” 

“Stuck up? Where?” queried Mr. 
Bombus, anxiously. “ Pray don’t make 


48 


Jock O' Dreams . 


such unpleasant insinuations. They 
quite set my heart to throbbing. I 
knew — I mean I sazv a humble-bee 
once,” he remarked impressively, “ and 
would you believe it, a little boy caught 
him and impaled him on a pin. It was 
horrible. He died in the most dreadful 
agony, — the bee, not the boy, — and 
then the boy secured him to the wall ; 
made him fast there. So he was stuck 
up. You surely can’t mean — ” 

“ Oh, no, indeed ! I meant only 
proud,” replied Betty, contritely; for Mr. 
Bombus’s face had really grown pale with 
horror at the remembrance of the bee’s 
awful fate, and she was very sorry she 
had occasioned him such discomfort. 

“ Then why did n’t you say only 
‘ proud ’ ? ” asked her companion, 
sharply. “You said ‘proud,’ and then 
added ‘ stuck up.’ ” 


49 


Betty s By-and-by, 

Betty thought it was about time to 
change the subject, so she observed 
quietly that By-and-by seemed a long 
way off. 

“ Of course it is a long way off,” re- 
plied her companion. “ Don’t you wish 
it to be a long way off ? ” 

Betty hesitated. “ Well, I don’t think 
I ever wished much about it. Can you 
tell me how many miles it is from some 
place I know about? You see, Mr. 
Bombus, I am pretty sure it is n’t in the 
geography. At least, I don’t remember 
that I ever saw it on the map. Could n’t 
you tell me where it is? ” 

Mr. Bombus considered a moment, 
and then asked, “ Do you know where 
Now is ? ” 

Betty thought a minute, and then re- 
plied, “ I suppose it is Here, sir.” 

“ Right ! ” assented the old gentleman, 
4 


50 Jock O' Dreams. 

promptly. “ Now, if you had said 
There, it would have been wrong; for 
Then is There. You see, this is the 
way : When we have lived in Now 
until it is all used up, it changes into 
Then, and, instead of being Here, is 
There. I hope it ’s plain to you. 
Well, you asked me where By-and-by 
was. That ’s the very thing about it : 
it never was , not even is; it’s always 
going to be , and it s generally a rather 
long way from Now; so, if you know 
where Now is, you can make your own 
calculations as to the distance of By- 
and-by.” 

“ But I don’t know anything about 
calculating distances,” said Betty, 
dolefully. 

“ It does n’t matter,” remarked Mr. 
Bombus ; “ for even if you did you 
could n’t apply it in this case. But 


Betty s By -and- by. 5 1 

we ’re getting on in our journey. Yes, 
indeed, we seem to be really getting 
on.” 

“ Why, I should hope so ! ” returned 
Betty. “ It seems to me I never flew so 
fast in all my life before and for such a 
long time. If we were n’t getting on, 
I think I should be discouraged. We 
seem to be almost running a race, we 
go so quickly.” 

“ We are running a race,” observed 
Mr. Bombus. 

Betty opened her eyes wide and said : 
“ Why, / did n’t know it. When did 
we begin ? ” 

“ When we started, Child. Pray, 
don’t be stupid ! ” replied her friend, a 
little severely. 

“ But with whom are we running it? ” 
queried Betty. 

“With Time,” whispered Mr. Bombus, 


52 Jock O' Dreams . 

confidentially. “ One always has to 
beat him before one can get to By-and- 
by. And then it depends on one’s 
self whether one likes it or not after 
one gets there.” 

But even as he spoke Betty seemed 
to feel herself hurried along more rap- 
idly than ever, as if she were making a 
final effort to outstrip some one ; and 
then she was brought to so sudden a 
standstill that she had to do her best to 
keep from falling forward, and was still 
quite dizzy with her effort when she 
heard a panting voice say, “ That last 
rush quite took away my breath ! ” and 
found herself being addressed by Mr. 
Bombus, who was very red in the face 
and gasping rather painfully, and whom 
she had, for the moment, forgotten. 

Betty said: “My, Mr. Bombus, how 
warm you are ! Sit right down on the 


Betty s By-and-by . 5 3 

grass and cool off before we go any 
farther, please.” 

“ Oh, dear, no ! ” objected her com- 
panion. “ That would be terribly im- 
prudent, with these cold autumn winds 
blowing so, and winter just over there. 
I ’d catch my death, Child.” 

“ Why, I ’m sure,” replied Betty, “ I 
don’t know what you mean. It ’s as 
summer as it can be. It ’s a hot August 
day, and if you can’t sit outdoors in 
August, I ’d like to know when you 
can.” 

“ Allow me to inform you, my dear 
child, that it is n’t August at all ; and if 
you had half an eye you ’d see it, let 
alone feel it. Do these leaves look as 
if it were August ? ” and he pointed to 
a clump of trees whose foliage shone 
red and yellow in the sunlight. 

Betty started. “ Good gracious ! ” 


54 


Jock O' Dreams . 


she exclaimed. “ How came they to 
change so early ? ” 

“ It is rit early,” explained Mr. Bom- 
bus. “ It ’s the last of October, — even 
later, — and keeps getting more so 
every minute.” 

“ But,” insisted Betty, “ it was August 
when I first saw you, a few hours 
ago, and — ” 

“Yes, then it was August,” assented 
Mr. Bombus ; “ but we ’ve got beyond 
that. We ’re in By-and-by. Did n’t 
you hear your mother say it would be 
October by and by, and it is October. 
Time is jogging on, back there in the 
world ; but we beat him, you see, and are 
safe and sound — far ahead of him — in 
By-and-by. Things are being done here 
that are always going to be done behind 
there. It ’s great fun.” 

But at these words Betty’s face grew 


Betty s By-and-by . 


55 


very grave, and a sudden thought struck 
her that was anything but “ great fun.” 
Would she be set to doing all the things 
she had promised to do “ by and by ”? 

“ I ’m afraid so,” said Mr. Bonibus, 
replying to her question though she had 
only thought it. “ I told you it de- 
pended on one’s self if one were going 
to like By-and-by or not. Evidently 
you ’re not . Oh ! going so soon ? You 
must have been a lazy little girl to be 
set about settling your account as quick 
as this. See you later ! Good — ” 

But again he was not permitted to say 
“ by,” for before he could fairly get the 
word out, Betty was whisked away, and 
Mr. Bombus stood solitary and alone 
under a bare maple-tree, chuckling to 
himself in an amused fashion and, it 
must be confessed, in a spiteful. 

“ It ’ll be a good lesson for her. She 


56 


Jock O' Dreams. 


deserves it,” he said to himself ; and 
' Betty seemed to hear him, though she 
was by this time far away. 

Poor child ! she did not know where 
she was going nor what would take 
place next, and was pretty well fright- 
ened at feeling herself powerless to do 
anything against the unknown force 
that was driving her on. 

But even while she was wondering 
she ceased to wonder; and what was 
going to happen had happened, and she 
found herself standing in an enormous 
hall that was filled with countless chil- 
dren, of all ages and nationalities, — and 
some who were not children at all, — 
every one of whom was hurrying to and 
fro and in and out, while all the time a 
voice from somewhere was calling out 
names and dates in such rapid succes- 
sion that Betty was fairly deafened with 


Betty s By-and-by. 5 7 

the sound. There was a continual stir 
in the assembly, and people were ap- 
pearing and reappearing constantly in 
the most perplexing manner, so that it 
made one quite dizzy to look on. But 
Betty was not permitted to look long, 
for * in the midst of the haranguing of 
the dreadful voice she seemed to distin- 
guish something that sounded strangely 
familiar. 

“ Betty Bleecker,” it called, “ began her 
account here when she was five years 
old by the World calculation. There- 
fore she has the undone duties of seven 
years — World count — to perform. 
Let her set about paying off her debt 
at once, and stop only when the ac- 
count is squared whereupon Betty was 
again whisked off, and had not even 
time to guess where, before she found 
herself in a place that reminded her 


58 


Jock O' Dreams. 


strangely of home and yet was not 
home at all. Then a wearisome round 
of tasks began. 

She picked up pins, she opened 
doors, she shut windows, she raised 
shades, she closed shutters, she ran 
errands, she delivered messages, she 
practised scales, she studied lessons, 
she set her doll-house in order and re- 
placed her toys, she washed her face 
and brushed her hair, she picked cur- 
rants and stoned raisins, she hung up 
her skipping-rope and fastened her sash ; 
and so she went on from one thing to 
another until she was almost ready to cry 
with weariness and fatigue. Half the 
things she did she had forgotten she 
had ever promised to do. But she had 
sent them into By-and-by, and here 
they were to be done, and do them she 
must. On and on she went, until after 


Betty s By-and-by. 


59 


a while the tasks she had to perform 
began to gain a more familiar look, and 
she recognized them as being unkept 
promises of quite a recent date. She 
dusted her room, she darned her stock- 
ings, she mended her apron, she fed 
her bird, she wrote a letter, she read 
her Bible ; and at last, after an endless 
space and when tears of real anguish 
were coursing down her cheeks, she 
found herself amusing the baby, and dis- 
covered that she had come to the last of 
her long line of duties and was cancel- 
ling her debt to By-and-by. 

As soon as all was finished she felt 
herself being hurried, still sobbing and 
crying, back to the place from which she 
had started, and on entering heard the 
same voice she had listened to before, 
say,— 

“ Betty Bleecker’s account is squared. 


6o 


Jock O' Dreams. 


Let a receipted bill be given her ; advise 
her to run up no more accounts, and 
send her home.” 

At these words Betty wept afresh, but 
not now from sorrow, but from gladness 
at the thought of returning home. And 
before she could even realize it, she was 
standing beside Mr. Bombus again, 
with something in her hand which she 
clutched tightly and which proved to be a 
signed receipt for her debt to By-and-by. 
Then she heard her companion say, — 

“ Like to look about a bit before you 
leave ? By-and-by ’s a busy place ; don’t 
you think so ? ” 

And Betty replied promptly, “ Oh, 
no, sir — yes, sir — not at all, sir — if 
you please, sir ; ” quite too frantic at the 
thought of having to go back, even for 
a moment, to answer the questions. 

But all the while she was very an- 


Betty s By-and-by. 


61 

gry with Mr. Bombus for bringing 
her there, quite forgetting she had 
pleaded with him to do so; and his 
smiling at her in that very superior 
fashion provoked her sadly, and she 
began upbraiding him, between her sobs 
and tears, for his unkindness and 
severity. 

“ It would only have been harder in 
the end,” replied her companion, calmly. 
“ Now you ’ve paid them and can take 
care not to run up any more debts ; for, 
mark my words, you ’ll have to square 
your account every time, and the longer 
it runs the worse it will be. Nothing in 
the world, in the way of responsibility, 
ever goes scot-free. You have to pay in 
one way or another for everything you 
do or leave undone, and the sooner you 
know it the better.” 

Betty was sobbing harder than ever, 


62 


Jock O' Dreams . 


and when she thought she caught a 
triumphant gleam in Mr. Bombus’s eyes 
and heard him humming in an aggra- 
vating undertone, “ In the Sweet By-and- 
by,” she could restrain herself no longer, 
but raised her hand and struck him a 
sounding blow. Instantly she was most 
deeply repentant, and would have begged 
his pardon ; but as she turned to ad- 
dress him, his cocked hat flew off, his 
legs doubled up under him, his eyes 
rolled madly, and then with a fierce 
glare at her he roared in a voice of 
thunder : “ Bet-tv ! ” 

And there she was in the soft grass- 
heap, sobbing with fright and clutching 
tightly in her hand a fistful of straw ; 
while yonder in the wistaria-vine a hum- 
ble-bee was settling, and a voice from 
the house was heard calling her name : 
“ Betty ! Bet-ty 1 ” 


THE WHITE ANGEL 
















THE WHITE ANGEL 



NCE upon a time there lived in 
a far country a man and his 
wife, and they were very poor. 

Every morning the man went his way 
into the forest, and there he chopped 
wood until the sky in the west flushed 
crimson because of the joy it felt at 
having the great sun pass that way ; and 
when the last rim of the red ball disap- 
peared behind the line of the hills, the 
man would shoulder his ax and trudge 


wearily home. 

In the mean time the wife went about 
in the little hut, making it clean and neat, 
and perhaps singing as she worked, — 
for she was a cheery soul. 



66 


Jock O' Dreams . 


Well, one day — perhaps it was be- 
cause she was very tired and worn ; I 
do not know — but one day she sat down 
by the door of her hut, and was just 
about to begin sewing on some rough 
piece of hempen cloth she had in her 
lap, when, lo ! she fell asleep. 

Now, this was very strange indeed, 
and even in her dream she seemed to 
wonder at herself and say: “ I have 
never slept in the daytime before. 
What can it mean ? What will Hans 
think of me if he should come home and 
find me napping in the doorway and his 
supper not ready for him, nor the table 
spread ? ” 

But by and by she ceased to wonder 
at all, and just sat leaning against the 
door-frame, breathing softly, like a little 
child that is dreaming sweet dreams. 

But presently the trees of the forest 






























.. 






































... 




*■ 
















































































































“ A wonderful silence seemed to fall on the place, and before her stood 
an angel, white-robed and beautiful.” — Page 67. 


The White Angel. 67 

began to bow their heads, and the wind 
chanted low and sweet, as though in 
praise ; the sun shot a golden beam 
along the foot-path, and made it glit- 
ter and shine, and then a wonderful 
silence seemed to fall on the place, and 
before her stood an angel, white-robed 
and beautiful. He said no word, but 
stretched out his arms to her and would 
have taken her to his heart, but that 
she cried out with a great fear, — 

“ Ah, no ! not yet ; I cannot go yet. 
I am young, and life is sweet. I cannot 
give it up. Do not take me yet ! ” and 
she fell at his feet. 

The angel smiled sadly and said : “ Be 
it so, then. I will not take, I will give. 
But bemoan thou not thy choice when 
the life thou deemest so sweet seems 
but bitter, and thy load more heavy 
than thou canst bear. I will come 


68 


Jock O' Dreams. 


once again ; ” and smiling down upon 
her, he was gone. 

With a great cry she rose ; for the 
light that shone all about the angel 
seemed to make many things clear to 
her, and she would have been glad to 
do his will, but it was now too late. 

The tree-tops were motionless again, 
the wind had ceased its chanting, the 
sun had withdrawn its wondrous light, 
and along the worn little foot-path 
came Hans with his ax upon his 
shoulder. She said nothing to him 
about her dream, for she was afraid ; 
but she got his supper for him, and 
when the stars had slipped out from 
behind the spare clouds, he had 
dropped to sleep and left her to lie 
awake gazing at them silently until 
each one seemed to smile at her with 
the smile of an angel, and then it was 


The White Angel 69 

morning, and she had slept, after all, 
and the sun was shining. 

After that Christina was always busy 
preparing for the gift the angel had 
promised her, and she sang gayly from 
morning till night, and was very glad. 

So the months rolled along, and the 
memory of her dream had almost faded 
from Christina’s mind. Then one day 
a strange sound was heard in the 
little hut, — the sound of a baby’s cry- 
ing. Hans heard it as he came along, 
and it made his eyes shine with glad- 
ness. He hastened his steps, and 
smiled to himself as he thought of his 
joy in having a little child to fondle 
and caress. 

But at the door he paused, for he 
heard another sound besides that of 
the baby’s voice. It was Christina’s, 
and she was weeping bitterly. 


70 


Jock O Dreams . 


In a moment he was beside her, and 
then he knew. There he lay, — their 
little son. The angel’s gift, — a wee 
cripple. Not a bone in all his little 
body was straight and firm. Only his 
eyes were strangely beautiful, and now 
they were filled with tears. 

“ It were better he had died, and 
thou, also, Christina,” sobbed Hans. 
“ It were better we had all three died 
before this sorrow was brought upon 
us.” But Christina only wept. 

So the years went by, and the baby 
lived and grew. It was always in pain, 
but it seldom cried ; and Christina could 
not be impatient when she saw how un- 
complaining the little child was. 

When he was old enough she told 
him what she never told any one before, 
— the story of the angel ; and his eyes 
were more beautiful than ever when she 


The White Angel \ 71 

wept because she could not suffer it all 
alone, but must see him suffer too. And 
while Hans scarcely noticed the boy, 
Christina spent all her time thinking of 
him and teaching him, and together 
they prayed to the white angel to bless 
them. 

But as the years went on many men 
came to the forest and felled the trees, 
not with axes but with huge saws ; and 
so Hans was turned away, for no one 
wanted a wood-chopper now. And so 
they were in great trouble ; and Hans 
grew rough and ill-tempered, and did 
not try to use the saw, nor would he 
ask the men to let him work. He 
would only stand idly by, and often 
Christina thought the blessings she 
prayed for were turned to curses; but 
she never told the child her sorrow, and 
still they prayed on to the white angel 


72 Jock O Dreams. 

to bless them. When Christina saw 
Hans would really do no work, she said 
no more, but sewed and spun for the 
men about who had no wives, and in 
this way she earned enough to buy food 
and wood. It was very little she could 
earn, and she often grew impatient at 
the sight of Hans smoking idly in the 
doorway ; but when she said a hasty 
word the boy’s eyes seemed to grow big 
with a deep trouble, and she would 
check herself and work on in silence. 
But the more she worked, the idler 
grew Hans and the more ill-tempered ; 
and he would laugh when he heard 
them pray to the angel to bless them. 
Instead of blessings new sorrow seemed 
to be born every day ; for Hans was in- 
jured by a falling tree, and was brought 
home with both his legs crushed, and laid 
helpless and moaning on the rough bed. 


The White Angel. 


73 


These were weary days for Christina ; 
but she did not rebel, even when Hans 
swore at her and the child, and made 
the place hideous with his oaths.- 

“ You brought us all these troubles, 
you wretched boy ! ” he would say. 
“ Don’t talk to me of patience. Why 
don’t you pray to your angel for curses, 
and then we may have some good luck 
again ? As it is, you might as well pray 
to the Devil himself.” 

But the child only drew Christina’s 
head closer to his poor little misshapen 
breast, and whispered to her, “ It is not 
so, is it, little mother ? ” 

And she always answered: “ No, dear 
heart. They are indeed blessings if we 
will only recognize them. If we prayed 
only for happiness, we might think the 
white angel heard us not ; but we pray 
for blessings, and so he sends us what 


74 Jock O' Dreams . 

we pray for, and what he sends is 
best.” 

Then again the boy’s eyes shone with 
a great light, and there seemed a radi- 
ance about his head ; but Christina was 
kissing his shapeless little hands and 
did not see. 

One day Christina was returning with 
a fresh bundle of work in her arms, 
when, just as she came in sight of the 
hut, she saw a pillar of smoke rise black 
and awful to the sky from the rude roof 
of the place. 

In a moment she felt a horrible fear 
for Hans and the child. Neither of 
them could move ; and must they lie 
helpless and forsaken in the face of 
such a fearful death ? She ran as 
though her feet were winged. Nearer 
and nearer she came, and now she saw 
the flames rise and lick the smoky 


The White Angel. 75 

column with great lapping tongues of 
fire. 

Nearer and nearer she came, and the 
crowd of men about the hut stood 
stricken and dared not venture in. 

“ It is of no use,” they screamed. 
“ We did not know soon enough, and 
now it is too late ; we should smother 
if we tried to save them.” 

But she tore her way through the 
crowd and flung herself into the burn- 
ing place. 

Hans, writhing and screaming, had 
managed to drag himself near the door ; 
and thinking, “ The child is more fit for 
heaven, I will save Hans first,” she 
lifted him in her arms and carried him 
outside. It was as though some great 
strength had been given her, for she 
carried him as if he had been a little 
child. Then into the hut she went 


76 


Jock O' Dreams . 


once more, and to the bed of the child. 
But now the flames were licking her 
feet, and the smoke blinded her. She 
groped her way to the bed and felt for 
the boy, but he was not in his accus- 
tomed place ; and she was about to fling 
herself upon the little couch in despair, 
when a great light filled the place, — 
not the red light of the flames, but a 
clear white flood such as she had only 
seen once before. 

There stood the white angel, radi- 
ant, glorious ; and looking up she saw 
him smiling down at her with the 
eyes of the boy. 

“ I am come again,” he said. “ When 
you would not give me your life, I gave 
you mine, and it was spent in pain and 
torture. Now that you would gladly 
give yours to spare me, you are to taste 
the sweetest of all blessings. The les- 


The White Angel. 


77 


son is over ; it is done.” And he took 
her in his arms and she was filled with 
a great joy, for she knew the angel had 
answered all her prayers. She remem- 
bered the words : “ He that findeth his 
life shall lose it ; and he that loseth his 
life for my sake shall find it.” 

The men outside waited in vain for 
Christina, and when she did not come 
they shook their heads and some of 
them wept. They did not know. 















IN 


THE PIED PIPER’S MOUNTAIN. 













IN THE PIED PIPER’S MOUNTAIN. 


T was a great honor, let me 
tell you ; and Doris, as she 
sat by the window studying, 
could not help thinking of it and feel- 
ing just a wee bit important. 

“It is n’t as if I were the oldest girl,” 
said she to herself. “ No, indeed ; I ’m 
younger than most of them, and yet 
when it came to choosing who should 
speak, and we were each given a chance 
to vote, I had the most ballots. Miss 
Smith told me I could recite anything 
I chose, but to be sure it was ‘good,’ 
and that it was not ‘beyond me.’ Well, 
this is n’t ‘ beyond me,’ I guess ; ” and 
she began : — 



6 



82 


Jock O' Dreams. 


“ Hamelin Town ’s in Brunswick, 

By famous Hanover City; 

The river Weser, deep and wide, 

Washes its walls on the southern side, — 

A pleasanter spot you never spied. 

But, when begins my ditty, 

Almost five hundred years ago, 

To see the townfolk suffer so 
With vermin was a pity.” 

For she had chosen Browning’s “ Pied 
Piper of Hamelin.” That was surely 
“good;” and if it was long, why, it was 
“so interesting.” As she went along 
she could almost see the rats as they 
“ fought the dogs and killed the cats.” 
She could almost see the great Mayor 
tremble as the people flocked to him 
and threatened to “ send him packing ” 
if he did n’t find some means to rid 
them of those awful rats. She could 
almost hear the Pied Piper’s voice as 
he offered to clear the town of the 
pests; and it seemed to her she could 


In the Pied Piper s Mountain. 83 

hear the music of his pipe as he stepped 
into the street and began to play, while 
the rats from every hole and cranny 
followed him to the very banks of the 
Weser, where they were drowned in 
the rolling tide. 

It seemed awful that after promising 
the Piper those fifty thousand guilders, 
the Mayor should break his word ; and 
it certainly was terrible, when the Piper 
found he had been duped, that he should 
again begin to pipe, and that the chil- 
dren — yes, every one in Hamelin Town 
— should follow him just as the rats 
had done, and that by and by he 
should lead them to the mountain-side, 
that it should open, and that, lo ! after 
they had all passed in, it should close 
again, leaving only one little lame boy 
outside, weeping bitterly because he had 
not been able to walk fast enough to 


84 Jock O' Dreams. 

keep up with the merry crowd. It was 
all so distinct and plain. 

She wondered where the children 
went after the hill-side shut them in. 
She wondered what they saw. She 
thought the Piper’s music must have 
been very odd indeed to charm them 
so. She could almost hear — What 
was that ? She gave a start; for 
sure as you live, she heard the sound 
of a fife piping shrill and loud round 
the corner. She flung down the book 
and ran into the street. The air was 
cold and sharp and made her shiver, 
but she did not stop to think of that; 
she was listening to that Piper who 
was coming around the side of the 
house, — nearer and nearer. She meant 
to follow him, whoever he was. There ! 
How the wind whistled and the leaves 
scurried ! • 


In the Pied Piper s Mountain. 85 

Wind ! Leaves ! Why, it was the 
Pied Piper himself with his puffed 
cheeks and tattered coat ; and before 
him ran the host of children, dancing, 
as they went, to the tune of the Piper’s 
fife. 

Away — away — 

With a bound Doris left the door-step 
and followed after, running and flutter- 
ing, skipping and skurrying, sometimes 
like a little girl and sometimes like a 
big leaf, — she had n’t time to ask her- 
self which she really w r as ; for all the 
while she was listening to that wonderful 
fife as it whistled and wailed, shrieked 
and sighed, and seemed to coax them 
on all the while. 

She followed blindly after the rest of 
the whirling crowd. 

Away they went, always more and 
more, — away they went, clear out of 


86 


Jock O' Dreams . 


town and into the bare country, — away 
they went ; and the Piper behind them 
made his fife-notes shriller and louder, 
so that all could hear, and they 
seemed to be carried along in spite of 
themselves. 

It was like a race in a dream. Their 
feet seemed not to touch the ground. 
The leaves rustled — no, the children 
chattered as they fluttered — no, hurried 
along. Doris could catch little sentences 
here and there ; but they seemed to be 
in a strange tongue, and she did not 
understand. But by and by she grew 
very familiar with the sounds, and, 
strangely enough, she found she could 
make out the meaning of the queer 
words. 

“ It ’s German,” she thought ; “ I know 
they ’re talking German ; ” and so she 
listened very attentively. 


In the Pied Piper s Mountain . 87 

“ Sie ist eine Fremde,” she heard 
one say to another ; “ sie gehoert nicht 
zu uns,” — which she immediately knew 
meant : “ She is a stranger ; she does n’t 
belong to us.” 

“ Nein,” replied the other; “ aber 
sie scheint gut und brav zu sein.” At 
which Doris smiled ; she liked to be 
thought “ good and sweet.” 

On and on they went ; and after a 
time things began to have a very for- 
eign look, and this startled Doris con- 
siderably. 

“ We can’t have crossed the ocean,” 
she thought. But when she asked her 
nearest neighbor where they were and 
whether they had crossed the Atlantic, 
he smiled and said, — 

“ Ja, gewiss ; wir sind in Deutsch- 
land. Wir gehen, schon, nach Hame- 
lin,” — which rather puzzled Doris ; for 


88 


Jock O' Dreams . 


she found they had crossed the sea and 
were in Germany and going to Hamelin. 

“It must be the Piper s wonderful 
way,” she thought. 

But she did not feel at all homesick 
nor tired nor afraid ; for the Piper’s fife 
seemed to keep them all in excellent 
spirits, and she found herself wonder- 
ing what she would do when they came 
to the fabled hill-side, — for she never 
doubted they would go there. On they 
went, faster and faster, the Piper behind 
them playing all the while. 

She saw the broad river ; and all the 
children shouted, “ Die Weser.” 

One little flaxen-haired girl told her 
they were nearing Hamelin. 

“ It used to have a big wall around it, 
with twenty towers and a large fort ; but 
that was all blown up by the French, 
years and years ago,” she. explained. 









“ On they went faster and faster, the Piper behind them playing 

all the while.” — Page 88. 








■ 





























































In the Pied Piper s Mountain . 89 

“ But it has a chain-bridge,” she re- 
marked proudly, — “a chain-bridge that 
stretches quite across the Weser.” 

Doris was just about to say: “Why, 
that’s nothing! We have a huge sus- 
pension bridge in New York;” but the 
words seemed to twist themselves into 
a different form, and the memory of 
home to melt away, and she found her- 
self murmuring, “ Ach, so?” quite like 
the rest of the little Teutons. 

But at length the fife ceased playing, 
and the children stopped. 

There they were in quaint old Ham- 
elin, with its odd wooden houses, and 
its old Munster that was all falling to 
ruin, and its rosy-cheeked children, who 
did not seem to notice the new-comers 
at all. 

“ We must be invisible,” thought 
Doris ; and indeed they were. 


9 o 


Jock O' Dreams . 


Then the Pied Piper came forward 
and beckoned them on, and softly they 
followed him to the very hill-side, that 
opened, as Doris knew it would, and 
they found themselves in a vast hall. 
A low rumbling startled Doris for a 
moment, but then she knew it was only 
the hill-side closing upon them. She 
seemed to hear a faint cry as the last 
sound died away, and was tempted to 
run back, for she feared some child had 
been hurt; but her companion said, — 

“ It can’t be helped, dear ; he always 
gets left outside, and then he weeps. 
You see he is lame, and he cannot 
keep up with us.” 

So Doris knew it was the self-same 
little lad of whom Browning had written 
in his story of the Piper. 

What a chattering there was, to be 
sure ; and what a crowd was gathered 


In the Pied Pipers Mountain . 91 

about the Piper at the farther end of 
the hall ! Every once in a while all the 
children would laugh so loudly that the 
very ceiling shook. It was such a 
merry throng. 

“ Tell me,” said Doris to her little 
neighbor, — “ tell me, are you always 
so gay here? Do you never quarrel? 
and have you really lived in this hill- 
side all this long, long time, — ever 
since the Piper first came to Hamelin 
five hundred years ago?” 

“Ja, wohl,” replied the girl, nodding 
her flaxen head. “We are always- so 
happy ; we never quarrel ; therefore we 
are ever young, and what thou callest 
five hundred years are as nothing to 
us. Ah ! we are well cared for here, 
and the Piper teaches us, and we him ; 
and we play and frolic and sometimes 
travel, ‘ und so geht’s.’ ” 


92 


Jock O' Dreams . 


“But what can you teach him?” 
asked Doris, wondering. 

“ Ah ! many things. We teach him 
to tune his fife to the sounds of our 
laughter, so that when he travels he may 
pipe new songs. Ah ! thou foolish one, 
thou thoughtest him the wind. And 
we teach him to be as a little child, 
and then he keeps young always, and 
his heart is warm and glad. And we 
teach him — But thou shalt see;” and 
she nodded again, and smiled into 
Doris’s wondering eyes. 

The hall they w’ere in was long and 
wide, and hung all about the walls were 
the most beautiful pictures, that seemed 
to shift and change every moment into 
something more strange and lovely. 
And as Doris looked she seemed to 
know what the pictures were, — and 
they were only reflections of the chil- 


In the Pied Pipers Mountain . 93 

dren’s pure souls that shone out of their 
eyes. 

“ How beautiful ! ” she thought. 

But the Piper was singing to them 
now; and as she drew nearer him she 
saw he had two little tots in his arms, 
and was putting them to sleep on his 
breast. 

So the children were still while the 
Piper sang his lullaby, and presently 
the two little ones began to nod ; and 
the Piper did not move, but held them 
to his kind heart until they were fast 
asleep. Then he rose and carried them 
away and laid them down somewhere. 
Doris could not see where, but it must 
have been far enough away to be out 
of the sound of their voices ; for when 
he came back he did not lower his 
tones, but spoke up quite naturally 
and laughed gayly as he said, — 


94 


Jock O' Dreams . 


“ Well, what now, Children ? Shall we 
show the new friend our manufactory ? ” 

And they were all so anxious to 
do whatever he proposed that in a mo- 
ment they had formed quite a body- 
guard about the Pied Piper, and were 
following and leading him down the 
vast hall. 

“What is the manufactory?” asked 
Doris of a boy who happened to be 
beside her. 

“Wait and thou shalt see ! ” he replied. 
“ We always are patient until the Herr 
Piper is ready to tell us what he wishes; 
then we listen and attend.” 

Doris would have felt that the boy 
was snubbing her if his eyes had not 
been so kind and his voice so sweet. 
As it was she took it all pleasantly, and 
determined to ask no more questions, 
but to content herself with as much 


In the Pied Pipers Mountain . 95 

information as the Piper was willing to 
bestow upon her. 

But now they had passed out of the 
first great hall and into another that 
seemed even more vast. At first it 
seemed quite empty to Doris, but as 
soon as her eyes grew accustomed to 
the strange light, she saw its walls were 
flanked by any number of wee spinning- 
wheels ; and above them on shelves lay 
stacks of something that looked like 
golden flax, and shimmered and glit- 
tered in a wonderful way. The floor 
was carpeted with something very soft 
and of a tended fresh green, and Doris’s 
feet seemed to sink into it at every 
step ; and then a sweet perfume seemed 
to rise up like that one smells on an 
early spring-day when one goes into 
the country and is the first to lay foot 
on the fresh young grass. The ceiling 


96 


Jock O Dreams. 


was so high that at first Doris thought 
it was no ceiling at all, but just the sky 
itself, and it was a deep, clear blue. 

“This is our Spring-room, little Doris,” 
explained the Piper. “ Now, Children! ” 

And at these words they broke away 
from him, leaving only Doris by his 
side ; and each group began a different 
task. One flew to the stacks of gold 
and separated them into long, heavy 
skeins ; while another spun the threads 
back and forth till they sparkled and 
danced and seemed to turn into sun- 
beams that at length broke away and 
glanced into the blue above, where 
they played about just as the sunlight 
does on a bright spring-day. Others, 
again, knelt down upon the soft carpet, 
and seemed to be whispering something 
very sweet to some one or something 
hidden below ; and before very long up 


In the Pied Pipers Mountain . 97 

sprang long, tender shoots, and then 
thin buds appeared, and by and by the 
buds swelled and burst, and then where 
every bud had been was a flower. And 
all this time there had been a sound as 
of falling drops that seemed to be keep- 
ing time to a soft little melody the chil- 
dren were crooning. 

The Piper, looking at Doris’s won- 
dering face, said, smiling : “ Thou dost 
not comprehend, dear heart ? Well, I 
will explain. As I said, this is our 
Spring-room, and in it all the sunshine 
and flowers and clouds and rain are 
made that go to make up a spring day. 
They,” he said, pointing to the first 
group, “ are separating the golden 
skeins so that they can be spun into 
sunbeams. It takes great patience be- 
fore they are completely finished; and 
if one of the spinners should sigh while 


9 8 


Jock O Dreams . 


weaving, it would ruin the beam and 
make it dull and heavy. So, you see, 
the sunbeam-children must be very 
light-hearted. Then those others are 
coaxing the flowers to spring up and 
bud. After they are all well above 
ground the flower-children hide a secret 
in the heart of each blossom, and a very 
beautiful secret it is, and so wonderful 
that very few ever succeed in finding it 
out But it is worth searching for, and 
one or two world-people have really dis- 
covered it. Thou mayst guess what a 
difficult task is that of my flower-chil- 
dren ; for at first the flowers are drowsy 
and would prefer to slumber yet awhile ; 
and my children must whisper to them 
such beautiful thoughts that they forget 
everything else and spring up to hear 
more. The singing thou hearest is the 
lullaby the rain-children are singing to 


In the Pied Piper s Mountain . 99 

the drops. Thou knowest that the 
clouds are the rain-cradles, and when 
my children sing slumber songs and 
rock the clouds gently to and fro, the 
drops grow sleepy and forget to fall. 
But sometimes they are too restless to 
remain in their beds, and then they fall 
to earth ; and if we could wait so long 
we might hear the children teach them 
their patter-song. But we have much 
else to see, and must go forward. Now, 
Children ! ” 

At this there was a slight commotion 
while the deft hands put aside their 
tasks ; but it was over in a moment, and 
the Piper once more in the midst of the 
merry crowd, who laughed gayly and 
chattered like magpies, while Doris 
looked her admiration and delight, and 
the Piper smiled approvingly. 

k ‘ The next is the Summer-room,” he 


IOO 


Jock O Dreams . 


said, as they wandered on. “ Thou 
seest we are never idle. The world is 
so large, there is always plenty to do ; 
and what would become of it if it were 
not for the children ? They are the 
ones who make the world bright, little 
Doris ; and so everything depends upon 
their keeping their hearts glad ; and 
one s heart cannot be glad if one’s soul 
is not beautiful. Thou thoughtest not 
so much depended upon the children, 
didst thou, dear heart ? ” 

Oh, the wonders of that Summer- 
room ! The perfect chorus that rose as 
the fresh young voices taught the birds 
to sing ; the beauty of the rainbows, 
the glory of the sunsets. It was all so 
wonderful that Doris scarcely knew how 
to show her appreciation of it all. 

The Autumn-room was scarcely less 
bewildering, and the Winter-room was 


In the Pied Pipers Mountain, ioi 

so dazzling that Doris shut up her eyes 
for very wonder. 

In the Autumn-room all the little 
musicians set about transposing the 
melody of the bird-songs from the major 
to the minor key, and they taught the 
Piper to bring his fifing into harmony 
with their voices. The small artists 
began changing the sky-coloring, and 
brought about such wonderful effects 
that it was marvellous to see, and Doris 
could scarcely realize at all that such 
wonders could be. 

After they had shown her the Win- 
ter-room and had seen her amazement 
at the glory of the snow-crystals and 
the mysterious way in which the rain- 
bow colors were hidden in the ice, the 
Piper nodded his head, and they all 
turned back and began to retrace their 
steps. 


102 


Jock O' Dreams . 


“ I suppose thou didst wonder where 
we had been when thou didst join us, 
little friend,” said the Piper. “ I will 
tell thee. In the spring we all set out 
on our travels ; for my children must 
see and learn, besides showing and 
teaching others. So in the spring we 
leave this place and go into the world. 
Then I go wandering about with my 
fife north and south, east and west, 
and the people think me the wind. 
But my dear children could not bear 
such fatigue ; so they take up their abode 
in the trees, and remain there guiding 
the seasons and seeing that all is well ; 
whispering to me as I pass and to one 
another, and singing softly to the stars 
and the clouds, and then every one mis- 
takes and thinks them simply rustling 
leaves. Then, when I have finished my 
journeying, I give them a sign, and they 


In the Pied Pipers Mountain . 103 

dress themselves in gala-costume, — for 
joy at the thought of coming home, — 
and when every one is gay in red, purple, 
and yellow, they all slip down from the 
trees and away we go. People have 
great theories about the changing of the 
foliage, but it is a simple matter ; as I 
tell you, it is only that my children are 
getting ready to go home. 

“ During the winter we leave the world 
to sleep, for it grows very weary and 
needs rest. My children arrange its 
snow-coverlets for it, and then it slum- 
bers, and the moon and stars keep 
watch. So now thou knowest all, lit- 
tle maid, and thou canst be one of us, 
and make the world bright and glo- 
rious if thou wilt. It only needs a 
beautiful soul, dear Doris; then one 
remains ever young, and can work many 
wonders.” 


104 Jock O' Dreams. 

“Ob, I will, I will!” cried Doris, 
instantly. 

“ But,” said the Piper, “ it takes such 
long experience. Thou seest my chil- 
dren had long years of it; and until thou 
canst make life bright within, thou 
couldst not venture without. But if thou 
wilt try, and be content to work in pa- 
tience, — there are many children who 
are doing this — ” 

“ Oh, I will, I will ! ” said Doris, 
again. 

Then the children laughed more hap- 
pily than ever, and the Piper raised his 
fife to his lips and blew a loud, glad 
note. 

What was this? The children had 
disappeared, the Piper was gone, and 
Doris sat by the window, and her book 
had dropped to the floor. She rubbed 
her eyes. 


In the Pied Piper s Mountain . 105 

“It was a dream,” she said. “It is 
the Piper’s wonderful way ; he has left 
me here to work and wait, so that I may 
make the world beautiful at last.” And 
she smiled and clapped her hands as the 
wind swept round the corner. 





MARJORIE’S MIRACLE. 




MARJORIE’S MIRACLE. 


HALL we have to wait until 
all these folks have been 
taken ? ” asked Marjorie, 
looking from the crowd of people who 
thronged the fashionable photograph- 
gallery to her mother, who was thread- 
ing her way slowly through the press 
to the cashier’s desk. 

“Yes, dear, I’m afraid so. But we 
must be patient and not fret, else we 
shall not get a pleasant picture ; and that 
would never do.” 

While she paid the clerk for the pho- 
tographs and made her arrangements 
with him as to the desired size and 
style, Marjorie busied herself with look- 



I IO 


Jock O' Dreams . 


in g around and scanning the different 
faces she saw. 

“ There ! ” she thought ; “ what for, do 
you s’pose, have I got to wait for that 
baby to have its picture taken ? Noth- 
ing but an ugly mite of a thing, anyway ! 
I should n’t guess it was more than a day 
old, from the way it wiggles its eyes 
about. I wonder if its mother thinks 
it ’s a nice baby ? Anyhow, I should 
think I might have my picture taken 
first. And that hump-backed boy! 
Guess I have a right to go in before him ! 
He ’s not pretty one bit. What a lovely 
frock that young lady has on,— all fluffy 
and white, with lace and things ! She 
keeps looking in the glass all the time, so 
I guess she knows she ’s pretty. When 
I am a young lady I ’ll be prettier than 
she is, though, for my hair is goldener 
than hers, and my eyes are brown, and 


Marjories Miracle . hi 

hers are nothing but plain blue. I 
heard a gentleman say the other day I 
had ‘ a rare style of beauty ; ’ he did n’t 
know I heard (he was talking to 
Mamma, and he thought I had gone 
away, but I had n’t). I ’m glad I have 
‘ a rare style of beauty,’ and I ’m glad 
my father ’s rich, so I can have lovely 
clothes and — Seems to me any one 
ought to see that I ’m prettier than that 
old lady over there ; she ’s all bent over 
and wrinkled, and when she talks her 
voice is all kind of trembly, and her eyes 
are as dim — But she ’ll go in before 
me just the same, and I ’ll get tireder and 
tireder, until I — Mamma, won’t you 
come over to that sofa, and put your 
arm around me so I can rest ? I ’m as 
sleepy as I can be ; and by the time all 
these folks get done being taken, I ’ll 
be dead, I s’pose. Do come ! ” 


1 1 2 Jock O' Dreams . 

Her mother permitted herself to be 
led to the opposite side of the room, 
where a large lounge stood, and seating 
herself upon it, took her little daughter 
within the circle of her arm ; where- 
upon Marjorie commenced complaining 
of the injustice of these “ homely ” peo- 
ple being given the advantage over her 
pretty self. 

“ Oh, Marjorie, Marjorie! ” whispered 
her mother, “ what a very foolish little 
girl you are ! I think it would take 
a miracle to make you see aright. 
Don’t you know that that dear baby is 
very, very sick, and that probably its 
sad little mother has brought it here to 
have its picture taken, so that if it 
should be called away from her, she 
might have something to gaze at that 
looked like her precious little one? 
And that poor crippled boy ! He has 


Marjorie s Miracle . 1 1 3 

a lovely face, with its large, patient eyes 
and sensitive mouth. How much better 
he is to look at than that young woman 
you admire so much, whose beauty does 
not come from her soul at all, and will 
disappear as soon as her rosy cheeks 
fade and her hair grows gray! Now, 
that sweet old lady over there is just a 
picture of goodness; and her dear old 
eyes have a look of love in them that 
is more beautiful than any shimmer or 
shine you could show me in those of 
your friend Miss Peacock.” 

“ Why do you call her ‘ Miss Pea- 
cock ’ ? You don’t know her, do you ? ” 
queried Marjorie. 

“ No, I don’t know her in one sense, 
but in another I do. She is vain and 
proud, and the reason I called her Miss 
Peacock was because of the way in 
which she struts back and forth before 
8 


1 1 4 Jock O' Dreams. 

that pier-glass, — just like the silly bird 
itself. But I should not have called her 
names. It was not a kind thing to do, 
even though she is so foolish ; and I beg 
her pardon and yours, little daughter.” 

Marjorie did not ask why her mother 
apologized to her. She had a dim sort 
of an idea that it was because she had 
set her an example that she would be 
sorry to have her follow. Instead, she 
inquired suddenly, — 

“ How do they take pictures, Mamma ? 
I mean, what does the man do, when he 
goes behind that queer machine thing 
and sticks his head under the cloth, and 
then after a while claps in something 
that looks like my tracing-slate and then 
pops it out again ? What makes the 
picture ? ” 

“ The sun makes the picture. It is 
so strong and clear that though it is 


Marjorie s Miracle . 115 

such a long distance away it shines 
down upon the object that is to be pho- 
tographed and reflects its image through 
a lens in the camera upon a plate which 
is sensitized (that is, coated with a sort 
of gelatine that is so sensitive that it 
holds the impression cast upon it until 
by the aid of certain acids and processes 
it can be made permanent, that is, last- 
ing). I am afraid I have not succeeded 
in explaining so you understand very 
clearly ; have I, Sweetheart ? ” 

Marjorie nodded her head. “ Ye-es,” 
she replied listlessly. “ I guess I know 
now. You said — the sun — did — it; 
the sun took our pictures. It ’s very 
strange — to think — the sun — does — 
it.” 


“ Come, Marjorie ! Want to go trav- 
elling ? ” asked a voice. 


Jock O' Dreams . 


1 16 

“ No, thank you ; not just now,” re- 
plied Marjorie, slowly. “ I am going to 
have my photograph taken in a little 
while, — just as soon as all these stupid 
folks get theirs done. I should n’t have 
time to go anywhere hardly ; and be- 
sides it ’d tire me, and I want to look all 
fresh and neat, so the picture will be 
pretty.” 

“ But suppose we promised, honor 
bright—” 

“ Pegging your pardon,” broke in an- 
other voice, “ that ’s understood in any 
case, — a foregone conclusion, you 
know. Our honor would have to be 
bright.” 

“ Suppose we promised faithfully,” 
continued the first voice, pretending not 
to notice the interruption, “ to bring you 
back in time to go in when your turn 
comes, would n’t you rather take a 


Marjories Miracle . 117 

journey with us and see any number of 
wonderful things than just to sit here 
leaning against your mother’s arm and 
watching these people that you think so 
‘ stupid ’ ? ” 

“ Of course,” assented Marjorie, at 
once. “ It ’s awful tiresome, — this ; it 
makes me feel just as sleepy as can be. 
But what ’s the use of talking ? I can’t 
leave here or I ’d lose my chance, and 
besides Mamma never lets me go out 
with strangers.” 

“We ’re not strangers,” asserted the 
voice, calmly ; “ we are as familiar to 
you as your shadow, — in fact, more so, 
come to think of it. You have always 
known us, and so has your mother. 
She ’d trust you to us, never fear! Will 
you come ? ” 

Marjorie considered a moment, and 
then said : “ Well, if you ’re perfectly sure 


1 1 8 Jock O Dreams. 

you ’ll take care of me, and that you ’ll 
bring me back in time, I guess I will.” 

No sooner had she spoken than she 
felt herself raised from her place and 
borne away out of the crowded room in 
which she was, — out, out into the world, 
as free as the air itself, and being car- 
ried along as though she were a piece 
of light thistle-down on the back of a 
summer breeze. 

That she was travelling very fast, she 
could see by the way in which she out- 
stripped the clouds hurrying noiselessly 
across the sky. One thing she knew, — 
whatever progress she was making was 
due, not to herself (for she was making 
absolutely no effort at all, seeming to be 
merely reclining at ease), but was the 
result of some other exertion than her 
own. She was not frightened in the 
least, but, as she grew accustomed to the 


Marjories Miracle . 


119 

peculiar mode of locomotion, became 
more and more curious to discover the 
source of it. 

She looked about her, but nothing 
was visible save the azure sky above her 
and the green earth beneath. She 
• seemed to be quite alone. The sense 
of her solitude began to fill her with a 
deep awe, and she grew strangely uneasy 
as she thought of herself, a frail little 
girl, amid the vastness of the big world. 

How weak and helpless she was, — 
scarcely more important than one of the 
wild-flowers she had used to tread on 
when she was n’t being hurried through 
space by the means of — she knew not 
what. To be sure, she was pretty ; but 
then they had been pretty too, and she 
had stepped on them, and they had died, 
and she had gone away and no one had 
ever known. 


120 


Jock O' Dreams . 


“ Oh, dear ! ” she thought, “ it would be 
the easiest thing in the world for me to 
be killed (even if I am pretty), and no 
one would know it at all. I wonder 
what is going to happen ? I wish I 
had n’t come.” 

“ Don’t be afraid ! ” said the familiar 
voice, suddenly. “ We promised to take 
care of you. We are truth itself. Don’t 
be afraid ! ” 

“ But I am afraid,” insisted Marjorie, 
in a petulant way, “ and I ’m getting 
afraider every minute. I don’t know 
where I ’m going, nor how I ’m being 
taken there, and I don’t like it one bit. 
Who are you, anyway ? ” 

For a moment she received no reply ; 
but then the voice said: “ Hush ! don’t 
speak so irreverently. You are talking 
to the emissaries of a great sovereign, 
— his Majesty the Sun.” 


Marjorie s Miracle . 


I 2 I 


“ Is ^ carrying me along ? ” inquired 
Marjorie presently, with deep respect. 

“ Oh, dear, no,” responded the voice ; 
“ we are doing that. We are his vas- 
sals, — you call us beams. He never 
condescends to leave his place, — he 
could not ; if he were to desert his throne 
for the smallest fraction of a second, 
one could not imagine the amount of 
disaster that would ensue. But we do 
his bidding, and hasten north and south 
and east and west, just as he commands. 
It is a very magnificent thing to be a 
king — ” 

“Of course,” interrupted Marjorie; 
“ one can wear such elegant clothes, that 
shine and sparkle like everything with 
gold and jewels, and have lots of ser- 
vants and — ” 

“ No, no,” corrected the beam, warmly. 
“ Where did you get such a wrong idea 


122 


Jock O Dreams. 


of things ? That is not at all where 
the splendor of being a king exists. It 
does not lie in the mere fact of one ’s 
being born to a title and able to com- 
mand. That would be very little if that 
were all. It is not in the gold and 
jewels and precious stuffs that go to 
adorn a king that his grandeur lies, but 
in the things which these things repre- 
sent. We give a king the rarest and the 
most costly, because it is fitting that the 
king should have the best, — that he is 
worthy of the best; that only the best 
will serve one who is so great and glo- 
rious. They mean nothing in them- 
selves ; they only describe his greatness. 
The things that one sees are not of im- 
portance ; it is the things that they are 
put there to represent. Do you under- 
stand ? I don’t believe you do. I ’ll 
try to make it more clear to you, like a 


Marjorie s Miracle. 


123 


true sunbeam. Look at one of your 
earth-kings, for instance. He is nothing 
but a man just like the rest of you ; but 
what makes him great is that he is sup- 
posed to have more truth, more wisdom, 
more justice and power. If he has not 
these things, then he would better never 
have been a king ; for that only places 
him where every one can see how un- 
worthy he is, — makes his lacks only 
more conspicuous. Your word king 
comes from another word, konning ; 
which comes from still another word, 
ca7ining , that means ablema7i. If he is 
not really an ableman, it were better he 
had never worn ermine. And there, too ; 
ermine is only a fur, you know. It is 
nothing in itself but fur ; but you have 
come to think of it as an emblem of roy- 
alty because kings use it. So you see, 
Marjorie, a thing is not of any worth 


124 


Jock O' Dreams . 


really except as it represents something 
that is great and noble, something true” 
M arjorie was very silent for a little ; she 
was trying to' understand what the sun- 
beam meant, and found it rather difficult. 
After a while she gave it up and said, — 
“ Will you tell me how you are carry- 
ing me, and where we are going, and all 
about it ? ” 

“ Certainly,” replied the beam, 
brightly. “ You are in a sort of ham- 
mock made out of threads of sunshine. 
We sunbeams can weave one in less 
than no time, and it is no trouble at all 
to swing a little mortal like you way out 
into the clearness and the light, so that 
a bit of it can make its way into your 
dark little soul, and make you not 
quite so blind as you were.” 

“ Why, I ’m not blind at all,” said 
Marjorie, with a surprised pout. “ I 


Marjories Miracle . 125 

can see as well as anything. Did you 
think I couldn’t?” 

“ I know you can’t,” replied the beam, 
calmly. “ That is, you can’t see an}' 
farther than the outside part of things, 
and that is almost worse than seeing 
none of them at all. But here we are 
nearing the court of the king. Now 
don’t expect to see him, for that is im- 
possible. He is altogether too radiant 
for you ; your eyes could not bear so 
much glory. It would be just as if you 
took one of your own little moles or 
bats (creatures that are used to the 
dark) and put them in the full glare of 
a noonday sun. The sun would be 
there, but they could not see it, because 
their eyes would be too weak and dim. 
Even yourself, — have n’t you often tried 
to look the sun full in the face ? Yes; 
and you have had to give it up and turn 


126 Jock O' Dreams . 

your face away because it hurt your 
eyes. Well, his Majesty only lets the 
world have a glimpse of his glory. But 
here we are at our journey’s end.” 

With these words Marjorie felt her- 
self brought to a gentle halt, and found 
herself in a place most wondrously clear 
and light and high, from which she 
could look off, — far, far across and over 
and down to where something that 
looked like a dim ball was whirling 
rapidly. 

“That is your earth,” whispered the^ 
sunbeam in her ear, — “ the earth that 
you have just left/’ 

Marjorie was so astounded that for a 
time she was unable to say a word. 
Then she managed to falter out : “ But 
it always looked so big and bright, and 
now it is nothing but a horrid dark 
speck — ” 


Marjorie s Miracle. 127 

“ That is just it, Marjorie, — just what 
I said. When you look at the world 
simply as a planet, it is small and dark 
enough, not nearly so large as some of 
the others you see about you ; but when 
you look at it as a place on which God 
has put his people to be good and noble, 
to work out a beautiful purpose, then — 
But wait a moment.” 

Marjorie felt a strange thrill pass 
through her ; across her eyes swept 
something that felt like a caressing 
hand, and when she looked again every- 
thing was changed, and she seemed gaz- 
ing at a wonderful sort of panorama 
that shifted and changed every moment, 
showing more lovely impressions each 
instant. 

“What is it?” she gasped, scarcely 
able to speak for delight and breath- 
less with amazement. 


128 


Jock O' Dreams. 


“ Only pictures of your world as it 
really is. Pictures taken by his High- 
ness the Sun, who does not stop at the 
mere outer form of things, but reveals 
the true inwardness of them, — what 
they are actually. He does not stop 
with the likeness of the surface of 
things ; he makes portraits of their 
hearts as well, and he always gets exact 
likenesses, — he never fails.” 

Marjorie felt a sudden fear steal over 
her at these words ; she did not pre- 
cisely know why, but she had a dim 
sort of feeling that if the sun took 
photographs of more than the outside 
of things (of the hearts as well), some 
of the pictures he got might not be 
so pretty, perhaps. But she said noth- 
ing, and watched the scroll as it un- 
rolled before her with a great thrill of 
wonderment. 


Marjories Miracle . 129 

With her new vision the world was 
more beautiful than anything she had 
ever imagined. She could see every- 
thing 7 upon its surface, even to the 
tiniest flower; but nothing was as it had 
seemed to her when she had been one 
of its inhabitants herself. Each blade of 
grass, each tree and rock and brook, was 
something more than a mere blade or tree 
or rock or brook, — something so much 
more strange and beautiful that it almost 
made her tremble with ecstasy to see. 

“Now you can see,” said the voice; 
“before you were blind. Now you 
understand what I meant when I said 
the objects one sees are of themselves 
nothing; it is what they represent that 
is grand and glorious and beautiful. A 
flower is lovely, but it is not half so 
lovely as the thing it suggests — but I 
can’t expect you to understand that . 

9 


13 ° Jock O' Dreams. 

Even when you were blind you used to 
love the ocean. Now that you can see, 
do you know why ? It is because it is an 
emblem of God’s love, deep and mighty 
and strong and beautiful beyond words. 
And so with the mountains, and so with 
the smallest weed that grows. But we 
must look at other things before you 
go back — ” 

“ Oh, dear ! ” faltered Marjorie, “ when 
I go back shall I be blind again ? How 
does one see clear when one goes 
back?” 

“ Through truth,” answered the beam, 
briefly. 

But just then Marjorie found herself 
looking at some new sights. “ What 
are these ? ” she whispered tremblingly. 

“ The proofs of some pictures you 
will remember to have half seen,” re- 
plied the beam. 


Marjories Miracle . 131 

And sure enough ! with a start of 
amaze and wonder she saw before her 
eyes the people who had sat in the 
crowded gallery with her before she had 
left it to journey here with her sunbeam 
guide ; but, oh ! with such a difference. 

The baby she had thought so ugly 
was in reality a white-winged angel, 
mild-eyed and pitying ; while the hump- 
backed boy represented a patience so 
tender that it beautified everything 
upon which it shone. She thought she 
recognized in one of the pictures a 
frock of filmy lace that she remembered 
to have seen before ; but the form it 
encased was strange to her, so ill-shapen 
and unlovely it looked ; while the face 
was so repulsive that she shrank from 
it with horror. 

“ Is that what I thought was the pretty 
girl ? ” she murmured tremulously. 


132 


Jock O Dreams. 


“ Yes,” replied the beam, simply. 

The next portrait was that of the 
silver-haired old lady whom Marjorie had 
thought so crooked and bowed. She 
saw now why her shoulders were bent. 
It was because of the mass of memo- 
ries she carried, — memories gathered 
through a long and useful life. Her 
silver hair made a halo about her 
head. 

“ The next is yours,” breathed the 
voice at her side, softly. “ Will, you 
look?” 

Marjorie gave a quick start, and her 
voice quivered sadly as she cried, — 

“ Oh, blessed sunbeam, don’t force me 
to see it ! Let me go back and try to 
be better before I see my likeness. I 
am afraid now. The outside prettiness 
is n’t anything, unless one’s spirit is 
lovely too ; and I — I could not look, 





“ The next is yours,” breathed the voice at her side, softly. 
“Will you look ? ” — Page 132. 











































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Marjories Miracle. 133 

for I know — I know how hateful 
mine would be. I have learned about 
it now, and it s like a book ; if the 
story the book tells is not beautiful, the 
pictures won’t be good to see. I have 
learned about it now, and I know better 
than I did. May I — oh, may I try 
again ? ” 

She waited in an agony of suspense 
for the answer ; and when it came, and 
the voice said gently, “ It is your turn 
next,” she cried aloud, — 

“ Not yet, oh, not yet! Let me wait. 
Let me try again.” 

And there she was, with her cheeks 
all flushed and tear-stained, her hair in 
loose, damp curls about her temples, 
and her frock all rumpled and crushed 
in her mother’s arms; and her mother 


was saying, — 


134 


Jock O' Dreams . 


“ Bad dreams, sweetheart? You have 
had a fine, long nap; but it is your turn 
next, and I have had to wake you. 
Come, dear! Now we must see if we 
cannot get a good likeness of you, — 
just as you really are.” 


WHAT HAPPENED TO LIONEL. 



WHAT HAPPENED TO LIONEL 


T is not to be supposed that 
such things happen every 
day. If they were to happen 
every day, one would get so familiar 
with them that they would not seem at 
all extraordinary ; and if there were no 
extraordinary things in the world, how 
very dull one would be, to be sure ! 
As it is — But to go back. 

The beggar had stood before the 
area-gate for a long time, and no one 
had paid the slightest attention to him. 
He was an old man with long gray hair, 
and a faded, ragged coat, whose tatters 
fluttered madly to and fro every time 
the wind blew. He was very tall and 



1 38 Jock O' Dreams . 

gaunt, and his back was bent. On his 
head was a big slouched hat, whose brim 
fell forward over his eyes and almost hid 
them entirely in its shadow. He carried 
a basket upon one arm, and a cane 
with a crook for a handle hung upon the 
other. He seemed very patient, for he 
was waiting, unmurmuringly, for some 
one to come in answer to the ring he 
had given the area-bell some fifteen 
minutes before. No one came, and he ap- 
peared to be considering whether to ring 
again or go away, when Lionel skipped 
nimbly from his chair by the drawing- 
room window, slipped noiselessly down 
the basement stairs, and opened the 
area-door just in time to prevent the 
beggar from taking his departure. 

“What do you want, sir?” inquired 
Lionel, politely, through the tall iron 
gate. 


What Happened to Lionel . 139 

The beggar turned around at the 
sound of the child’s voice, and replied : 
“ I have come to beg — ” 

“ Oh, yes, I know,” cried Lionel, hur- 
riedly (he was afraid some one might 
come, and then he would be snatched 
unceremoniously away from the open 
door, and the beggar sent smartly about 
his business by one of the pert-tongued 
maids) ; “ but is it for cold victuals or 
money ? ” 

The beggar looked down at the little 
lad, and a smile, half of pity, half of 
amusement, lit up his grave features 
for a moment. “ I have come to beg,” 
he said slowly, “ that you will receive 
from me, not that you will give to me.” 

Lionel’s eyes widened with amaze- 
ment. “ That I will receive from you ? ” 
he repeated slowly. “ Then you are n’t 
a beggar at all ? ” 


140 Jock O Dreams . 

“ Most assuredly I am,” responded the 
old man, promptly. “ Do I not beg of 
you ? What is a beggar ? ‘One who 
begs or entreats earnestly or with hu- 
mility; a petitioner.’ That is how your 
dictionary has it. It does n’t say for 
what he begs or entreats. Where I 
come from things are so different, — 
there it is a mark of distinction, I can 
assure you, to be a beggar. One must 
have lived such a long life of poverty 
and self-sacrifice before one is permit- 
ted to beg — to beg others to receive 
one’s benefits. Ah, yes, there it is so 
different ! ” 

“Yes, it must be,” assented Lionel. 
“ Here beggars are just persons who go 
about and ask for cold bits or pen- 
nies ; and we don’t think much of them 
at all.” 

“ That is because they are not the 


What Happened to Lionel. 14 1 

right kind of almsfolk, nor you the right 
kind of almoners,” responded the beg- 
gar; and then he repeated: “Ah, yes, 
there it is so different ! ” 

“ Where ? ” inquired Lionel. “ Won’t 
you tell me about it ? ” 

“ Dear child,” replied the beggar, 
gently, “ it can’t be described. It must 
be seen to be appreciated. If you once 
entered into that estate, you would 
never wish to return to this.” 

“ Is it as nice as all that ? ” ques- 
tioned Lionel, eagerly. “ Guess I ’ll 
go, then. Will you take me ? ” he 
asked. 

The beggar smiled down at him 
kindly. “ I can’t take you, dear boy,” 
he said. “ I have to travel on. But I 
can set you on the road, and you will 
reach there in safety if you follow my 
directions.” 


142 


Jock O Dreams. 


Lionel waited breathlessly for the 
beggar to continue; but the man almost 
seemed to have forgotten his existence, 
for he was gazing dreamily over his 
head into the darkness of the hallway, 
apparently seeing nothing but what was 
in his own mind’s eye. 

“Well?” asked Lionel, a little im- 
patiently. “You were going to give 
me the directions, you know.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” returned the beggar, with 
a slight start. “ Well, the directions 
are: Always turn to the right ! ” 

Lionel considered a moment, and 
then he said : “ But if I always turn 
to the right I should n’t get anywhere 
at all. I ’d be only going round and 
round.” 

“ No, no ! ” replied the beggar, has- 
tily; “you must always go square , you 
know. And you ’ll find you ’ll get 


What Happened to Lionel. 143 

along beautifully if you always keep to 
the right.” 

“ But s’pose,” suggested Lionel, “ I 
come to a place where the road is to 
the left, — some of the roads might be 
not to the right, — some might go quite 
the other way.” 

“ Yes,” assented the beggar, wistfully. 
“ They all go the other way, — that is, 
they seem to go the other way. But 
when they seem to go to the wrong 
and you don’t see any that go to the 
right, just keep as near to the right as 
you can, and by and by you ’ll see one 
and it will be lovely. But if you turn 
down to the wrong, you run a chance 
of losing your way entirely. It is 
always so much harder to go back.” 

“ But are those all the directions you 
are going to give me ? ” inquired Lionel, 
with a doubtful glance. 


144 Jock O' Dreams. 

“ They are sufficient,” replied the 
beggar. “ You ’ll find them sufficient 
and before Lionel could say another 
word the beggar had vanished from be- 
fore his very eyes. He had not slipped 
away, nor slunk away, nor walked away, 
nor sped away, — he had simply van- 
ished ; and Lionel was left alone behind 
the grated door of the area-way gazing 
out upon a vacant space of pavement 
where, an instant before, the beggar 
had stood. The little boy rubbed his 
eyes and looked again. No, the beggar 
was gone, in very truth, and had left 
not so much as a rag behind him. 
But, look ! what was that ? Something 
lay upon the stone step just outside 
the gate, and it gleamed brightly from 
out its dusky corner. Lionel reached 
up and unlatched the heavy fastening. 
The great gate swung slowly in, and 


W/iat Happened to Lionel ’ 145 

Lionel stepped briskly out. He bent 
down and grasped the shining object ; 
it proved to be a little rule, and it was 
made of solid gold. He clasped it to 
his bosom. 

“How beautiful!” he murmured. 
“Now I can measure things and carve 
them with my jack-knife, and they’ll 
be just exactly right. Before they 
haven’t been quite straight, and when 
I ’d try to put the parts together they 
wouldn’t fit; but now — ” 

And then suddenly the thought 
flashed across his mind : “ Perhaps it be- 
longs to the beggar and he might want 
it ; ” and without a moment’s thought to 
his bare head, he passed quickly through 
the gateway and out into the street. 

“ It ’s such a beautiful rule,” he 
thought, as he flew along. “ I never 
saw such a darling. If it were mine, 


10 


146 Jock O' Dreams . 

how I should hate to lose it ! I must 
certainly find him and give it back to 
him ; for I know he must feel just as I 
should if it were mine.” 

It never entered into his head to keep 
the thing ; his one idea seemed to be to 
find the beggar and return to him his 
property. But before very long his 
breath began to come in gasps, and he 
found himself panting painfully and un- 
able to run any farther. He paused 
and leaned against the huge newel-post 
at the foot of some one’s outer steps. 
His cheeks were aglow, his eyes flash- 
ing, his thick curls rough and tumbled, 
and his bang in fine disorder. The 
deep embroidered cuffs and collar upon 
his blouse were crushed and rumpled ; 
his little Zouave jacket was wind-blown 
and dusty, and his pumps splashed with 
mud from the gutter-puddles through 


What Happened to Lionel. 147 

which he had run. At home they 
would have said he “ looked like dis- 
tress ; ” but here, leaning wearily against 
the post, he was a most picturesque 
little figure. 

Suddenly he felt a light touch upon 
his head, and then his bang was brushed 
back from his temples as though by the 
stroke of some kindly hand. He looked 
up, and there beside him stood the 
oddest-looking figure he had ever seen. 

The stranger was clad from head to 
foot in a suit of silver gray. Upon his 
head he wore a peaked cap, upon his 
feet were the longest and most pointed 
of buskins ; his doublet and hose were 
silver gray, and over his shoulders hung 
a mantle about which was a jagged 
border made after the most fantastic 
design, which shone and glittered like 
ice in sunlight. About his hips was 


148 


Jock O' Dreams. 


a narrow girdle from which hung a 
sheathed dagger whose hilt was richly 
studded with clear, white crystals that 
looked to Lionel like the purest of 
diamonds. 

Lionel felt that when he spoke it 
would probably be after some old-cen- 
tury fashion which he could scarcely un- 
derstand; but there he was mistaken, 
for when the stranger addressed him, it 
was in the most modern manner and 
with great kindliness. 

“ Well, my son,” he said cheerily, 
“ tired out? I saw you run. You have 
a fine pair of heels. They have good 
speed in them.” 

“ I wanted to catch up with some one, 
— an old beggar-man who lost some- 
thing in our area-way. I wanted to 
return it to him,” explained Lionel, 
breathlessly. 


What Happened to Lionel . 149 

The stranger gazed down at him 
more kindly than ever. “ So ? But 
one can’t expect to catch up with folks 
when one gets winded and has to stop 
every now and then for breath. Better 
try my mode.” 

“Please, sir, what is your mode?” 
inquired Lionel, with his politest 
manner. 

“ To begin with,” explained his com- 
panion, “ I have to accomplish the most 
astonishing feats in the manner of speed. 
Literally I have to travel so fast that I 
am in two places at once. You will the 
better believe me when I tell you who I 
am, — Jack Frost, at your service, sir. 
Now, by what means do you think I 
manage it ? ” 

“ I ’m sure I don’t know. I should 
like immensely to find out,” Lionel 
returned. 


Jock O' Dreams. 


150 

“ How do you get to places your- 
self?” inquired Jack Frost. “Do you 
always run ? ” 

“ Oh, no, indeed. I almost always 
ride on my bicycle. Then I can go like 
anything, ’specially down coasts . Up- 
grades are kind of hard sometimes, but 
not so very. Oh, I can go quick enough 
when I have my bicycle.” 

“ Now then,” broke in Jack Frost, 
“ you use a bicycle, — that is, a machine 
having two wheels. Now / use a 
something having but one wheel ; con- 
sequently it goes twice as fast, — oh ! 
much more than twice as fast.” 

“ One wheel ? ” repeated Lionel, 
thoughtfully; “seems to me I never 
heard of that kind of an one.” 

“ Suppose you guess,” proposed Jack 
Frost. “ I ’ll put it in the form of a 
conundrum : If a thing having two 


What Happened to Lionel ’ 15 1 

wheels is called a bicycle , what would 
a thing having but one be called ? ” 

“ Oh, that ’s an old one. I Ve heard 
that before, and the answer is, a wheel- 
barrow, you know.” 

Jack Frost shook his head. “ I see 
I shall have to tell you,” he said. “ If 
a thing having two wheels is called a 
bicycle, a thing having but one would 
naturally be an zcicle. Of course you 
might have known I should use an 
icicle.” 

“ But oh, Mr. Frost,” objected Lionel, 
“ I never saw an icicle with a wheel in 
my life, and I never saw one go either.” 

“That’s because you haven’t seen 
me on one ; and even if you had seen 
me on one, you would n’t have known 
it, — -we travel so fast. Did you ever 
notice that when things are going at 
the very rapidest rate possible, they 


152 ' Jock O' Dreams. 

seem to be standing perfectly still ? 
That ’s the way with icicles. They 
have tremendous speed in them. They 
go so fast you can’t realize it, and then 
when they are slowing up they don’t 
do it with a clumsy jerk as bicycles do ; 
they just gradually melt out of sight.” 

“ Yes, I ’ve seen them do that. I ’ve 
seen them go that way,” admitted Lio- 
nel. “ But will you take me to the 
beggar? I’m ’fraid I sha’n’t be able to 
give him his rule if I don’t hurry up.” 

“ But do you know in what direction 
he went?” asked Jack Frost. “If one 
wants to catch up with any one, one 
needs to have some idea of the direction 
he took. It’s quite a desideratum , — . 
when you get home, look that up.” 

Then Lionel felt deeply mortified. 

“ What a silly I was ! ” he said. “ Per- 
haps I was going just the opposite way 


What Happened to Lionel . 153 

from the one he went. Oh, dear ! how 
can I ever give him back his rule ? It 
is such a beauty. If it had been mine, 
I ’d just hate to lose it.” 

“ Let us examine it,” suggested Jack 
Frost, “and see if there is any sign 
upon it that would help to discover its 
owner ; ” and without a moments doubt 
or hesitation Lionel drew it from his 
pocket and held it up for Jack Frost 
to see. 

Then for a little space they both 
gazed at it carefully ; Jack Frost bend- 
ing down his tall head to get a nearer 
view of it, and Lionel standing upon 
the tips of his toes to accomplish the 
same purpose. 

“ Oh, see, see ! ” cried the boy, joy- 
ously. “ It says, ‘ Lionel, — his rule 
for life.’ That means I can keep it for 
always, does n’t it ? Forever ’n’ ever.” 


154 


Jock O' Dreams. 


“ It means,’ 1 explained Jack Frost, 
gravely, “ that you can keep it, — yes. 
But it means you are to measure your 
life with it. You are always to use it 
in everything you do. Then you ’ll be 
true , and whatever you do will be 
straight and square .” 

“Why, that’s what he said himself. 
He said I must always ‘ go square.’ 
That was when he was giving me direc- 
tions how to reach the beautiful place 
he came from. He called it an estate ; 
and he said if I ever got there I ’d never 
want to come away. As long as I ’m on 
the way I guess I ’ll try to find that 
place. Will you take me ? ” 

“ I ’m afraid,” replied Jack Frost, with 
a very kindly seriousness, — “I ’m afraid 
one must depend on one’s self in order 
to reach that place. But I ’ll tell you 
what I will do ; I ’ll stay with you for a 


What Happened to Lionel. 155 

bit, and, perhaps, having company will 
hearten you, so if you happen to come 
across any specially bad places just at 
first, you won’t be discouraged. And I 
want to tell you that if you are ever in 
doubt as to the way and no one is there 
to give you advice, just set yourself to 
work and use your rule and you ’ll come 
out right. Now don’t forget ! ” and with 
these words he vanished. 

“ Why, I thought he was going to 
stay with me,” murmured Lionel, de- 
spondently. “ He was so jolly, and I 
liked him so much. He said he 
would n’t leave me just yet — ” 

“ Nor have I,” rejoined the hearty 
voice close by his ear. “ But I can’t 
neglect my business, you know; and 
at this moment I ’m here and ’way 
off in Alaska too. Stiff work, is n’t 
it?” 


156 Jock O' Dreams. 

But in spite of this Lionel heard him 
whistling cheerily beside him. 

The boy trudged on, and every once 
in a while he and his invisible comrade 
would converse together in the most 
friendly manner possible, and Lionel did 
indeed feel encouraged by the knowl- 
edge of Jack Frost’s companionship. 
But by and by, after quite a long time, 
Lionel noticed that when he addressed 
his unseen fellow-traveller the voice that 
came to him in reply seemed rather far 
away and distant, and later became lost 
to him altogether. 

Then he knew that Jack Frost had 
left him for a season, and he felt quite 
lonely and deserted and was about to 
drop a tear or two of regret, when all at 
once, at his very feet, opened a new 
way which he had not noticed before. 
It looked bright and inviting, and wound 


What Happened to Lionel. 157 

along in the most picturesque fashion, 
instead of lying straight and level be- 
fore him, as did the road from which 
it branched. 

He was just about to turn down this 
fascinating side-path, and was in the very 
act of complaining about his loneliness 
and bemoaning it aloud, when he hap- 
pened to notice that the sky looked a 
little overcast ; the air had grown heavy 
and still, and a strange, sad hush brooded 
over everything ; while the bare branches 
upon the trees appeared to droop, and 
the one or two birds that had perched 
upon them uttered low, plaintive lit- 
tle sounds that were disheartening to 
hear. 

Lionel was struck with so great an 
awe that he entirely forgot himself and 
his sorrow ; and in that one moment the 
skies seemed to brighten, the air to 


158 Jock O Dreams . 

lighten, and the trees and birds had 
grown songful again. 

“ What does it mean ? ” he asked him- 
self anxiously; and then, all at once, he 
bethought himself of Jack Frost’s advice 
in case he ever was in doubt as to the 
course he was to take, and in a twink- 
ling had whipped out his rule and was 
down on his knees applying it in good 
earnest. Then how glad he was that he 
had not turned into the inviting by-path, 
for his little rule showed how crooked 
and wrong it was, — whole yards and 
yards away from the right ; and he knew 
he must have met with some mishap, or 
at the very least have wasted any 
amount of precious time trying to re- 
trace his steps and regain the place 
upon which he now stood. 

He was so relieved to think he had 
been saved from making such a sad mis- 


What Happened to Lionel \ 159 

take that he began to whistle merrily, 
and in an instant the whole world about 
him was bright of hue and joyous again, 
and looking, he saw, to his amazement, 
that the bare branches were abud. 

“It's spring,” he cried happily, and 
leaped along his way toward the right. 
In a flash the tempting little by-path had 
curled up like a scroll and disappeared 
from view ; and then Lionel knew that it 
had not been real at all, but only ima- 
ginary, and he was more grateful than 
ever that he had not followed its lead. 

“ Now, you good little rule,” said he, 
addressing the shining object in his hand, 
“ I ’ll put you in my breast-pocket and 
keep you safe and warm next to my 
heart. Then you ’ll be ready if I want 
you again.” And he was just about to 
thrust it in his bosom, when his eyes 
were caught by something unusual upon 


160 Jock O' Dreams . 

its surface, and on examining it very 
closely he saw, in exquisitely chased 
characters, the words, — 

Nor sigh nor weep o’er thine own ills ; 

Such plaining earth with mourning fills. 

Forget thyself, and thou shalt see 

Thyself remembered blessedly. 

For some time after he had read the 
lines he was plunged in thought. They 
seemed to teach him a lesson that it 
took him some little time to learn. 

“ I don’t know why it should make 
the world sad if one complains,” he 
mused. “ But I s’pose it does. I s’pose 
one has n’t any right to make things 
unpleasant for other people by crying 
about things. One ought to be brave 
and not bother folks with one’s troubles. 
Well, I ’ll try not to do so any more, 
because if it ’s going to make things so 
unpleasant it can’t be right.” 


What Happened to Lionel. 161 

And this last word seemed to link in 
his mind his escape from the complaint 
of his loneliness and the by-path down 
which he did not turn ; and he was so 
long trying to unravel the mystery of 
the connection that before he knew it 
he had almost stumbled into quite "a 
bog, and there, in front of him, sat a 
wee child, — just where two roads met, 
— and he had well-nigh run over her 
in his carelessness. 

“ Oh, bother ! ” said he, — for he was 
irritated at the thought of having only 
so narrowly escaped doing himself seri- 
ous damage, — “ what do you get in a 
fellow’s way for ? You — ” But the poor 
little mite gazed up at him so sadly, and 
wept so piteously at his hasty words that 
he paused suddenly and did not go on. 

He looked down the two paths. The 
one was wide and curving, the other 


ii 


162 


Jock O' Dreams. 


narrow and straight ; the one was bor- 
dered with rich foliage, the other was 
bare and sandy. He might have run 
lightly along the one, he would have 
to toil wearisomely along the other, 
What wonder that his foot was turn- 
ing in the direction of the first! But 
a queer pricking in his bosom and the 
child’s cry stopped him. 

He slowly drew forth his rule and 
began to measure, while the little one 
sobbed, — 

“ I ’m so told I tan’t wait any more. 
My foots are all tired out, and I want 
sumpin to eat;” and there he found 
himself just on the verge of making a 
fearful blunder. He got up from his 
knees and turning to the tiny maid, 
said kindly, — 

“ There, there ! don’t cry, dear ! We ’ll 
fix you all right ; ” and he stripped off 













* 
































What Happened to Lionel \ 163 

his jacket and wrapped it about her, 
taking her in his arms, and trudging 
on with his burden along the more dif- 
ficult way. But it was the right one, 
and he knew it; and so his heart was 
light, and he did not have time to 
think of his own weariness ; for all the 
time he was trying to comfort his for- 
lorn little companion. And so well he 
succeeded that in no time at all she 
was asleep on his shoulder. Then he 
sat down by the roadside, and holding 
her still in his arms, began to think. 

“ There I was a little while ago com- 
plaining — no, not quite complaining, 
but almost — because I hadn’t anybody 
to keep me company. Now I ’ve got 
somebody with a vengeance. She ’s 
awful heavy. But, oh, dear! what a 
narrow escape I had! I might have run 
into that bog, and that would have been 


Jock O' Dreams. 


a ‘ pretty how d ’ye do,’ as Sarah says. 
I was so busy thinking I forgot every- 
thing, and ran almost over little Sissy ; 
and that shows, I s’pose, how without 
meaning it one can hurt somebody if 
one does n’t look out.” 

And then, very carefully, so as not to 
wake his sleeping charge, he slipped 
his hand into his pocket and drew out 
his rule again. 

“ What a good friend you are ! ” he 
said to it. “ I really think you ’re better 
than any sword or poniard a body could 
have. You ’ve saved me from danger 
twice now, and — ” But here he stared 
at it in dumb surprise, for even as he 
looked he saw appear upon its polished 
surface the words, — 

Deep is the bog in which they sink 
Who ne’er on others’ sorrow think ; 

Deeper the joy in which they rest 
Who ’ve served the weary and distressed. 


What Happened to Lionel. 165 

And, sure enough, he felt so happy he 
could have sung aloud in spite of his 
weariness and fatigue. 

But I could not begin to tell you of 
all his experiences, nor how unfailingly 
his little rule helped him to meet them 
successfully. 

He thought a great deal about it and 
its magical power ; but once or twice 
he did get to wondering why it should 
point to the straight path when the 
winding one was so much the prettier 
to see. 

“ Are the right ways always the ones 
we should n’t take if we had our own 
way ? ” he thought. “ Why is it that 
the right one always seems not so 
pretty as the other? Seems to me some 
one told me once that the curved lines 
were ‘ the lines of beauty.’ ” But before 
he had time fairly to consider the subject, 


Jock O' Dreams . 


1 66 

his rule, which he happened to be hold- 
ing in his hand, showed him this little 
verse, — 

“ Straight is the line of duty, 

Curved is the line of beauty ; 

Follow th’ one and thou shalt see 
The other ever following thee” 

And this was always the way. When- 
ever Lionel was puzzled about anything, 
his rule always made it clear to him. 
And by and by, after he had met with 
all sorts of adventures, he began to 
wonder whether he was ever going to 
see the beggar again or reach his won- 
derful estate. 

It was on a very beautiful day that 
he wondered this, and he was more 
than a little happy because he had just 
been applying his rule to unusually 
good effect, when, lo ! there beside him 
stood the subject of his thoughts. But 
oh ! how changed he was ! 


What Happened to Lionel. 167 

Every rag upon him glowed and 
shimmered with a wondrous lustre, and 
the staff he carried blazed with light, 
while the basket upon his arm over- 
flowed with the most beautiful blessings. 

“ I thought/’ said the new-comer, 
“that I might risk giving you this en- 
couragement. It will not make you 
content to go no farther on now . It 
will make you long to strive for greater 
good ahead. You will not reach it 
until you have travelled a lifetime; but 
you will not despair, for you are being 
so blessed. I have been permitted to 
give you a great gift. It is for that I 
was begging you that day. See, what 
a privilege it is to be able to beg so — ” 

“ Oh, yes,” cried Lionel ; “ you were 
going to beg me to accept the little 
rule, were n’t you ? And you left it 
for me when you disappeared, and it 


Jock O Dreams . 


1 68 

is a beauty, and it is gold, and it does 
strange, wonderful things for me, and — 
and — ” In his enthusiasm he drew it 
from his breast and held it up, when, 
lo ! it curved about his hand until it 
formed a perfect, beautiful circle. From 
its shining rim shot up points of radi- 
ance, and it was no more a simple little 
rule, but a golden crown fit for a king 
to wear. 

Lionel gazed at it in mute wonder- 
ment, and the beggar put out his hand 
and touched it lovingly. 

“ When your journey is done you 
shall wear it, lad,” he said ; and then 
Lionel closed his eyes for very ecstasy, 
and then — 

But when extraordinary things are 
just on the point of getting too extraor- 
dinary, they are sure to meet with some 
sort of an interruption, and after that 


What Happened to Lionel . 169 

they are quite ordinary and every-day 
again. So when Lionel opened his 
eyes there he was curled up in the 
chair by the drawing-room window, and 
it had grown very dark and must have 
been late, for one of the maids was trip- 
ping softly about the room, lighting 
the lamps and singing as she did it. 



MARIE AND THE MEADOW- 

BROOK. 



MARIE AND THE MEADOW- 
BROOK. 


LITTLE maid sat sadly 
weeping while the sunbeams 
played merrily at hide-and- 
seek with the shadows that the great 
oak branches cast on the ground ; while 
the warm summer wind sang softly to 
itself as it passed, and the blue sky had 
not even a white cloud with which to 
hide the sad sight from its eyes. 

“ Why do you weep ? ” asked the oak- 
tree; but Marie did not hear it, and her 
tears fell faster than ever. 

“ Why are you so sad ? ” questioned 
the sunbeams; and they came to her 
gently and tried to peep into her eyes. 




174 


Jock O' Dreams . 


But she only got up and sat farther 
away in the shadow, and they could 
do nothing to comfort her. So they 
danced awhile on the door-step ; and 
then the sun called them away, for it 
was growing late. 

And still the little maid sat weep- 
ing; and if she had not fallen asleep 
from very weariness, who knows what 
the sad consequences might not have 
been ? 

“ How warm it is ! ” murmured the 
dandelions in the meadow. “ Our heads 
are quite heavy, and our feet are hot. If 
it was not our duty to stand up, we 
would like nothing better than to sink 
down in the shade and go to sleep ; but 
we must attend to our task and keep 
awake.” 

“ What can you have, you wee things, 
to keep you busy? ” asked the tall milk- 


Marie and the Meadow-Brook . 175 

weed that grew near the fence-rails ; and 
the mullein-stalk beside it echoed, — 

“ What, indeed ? ” 

“ Now, one can understand one so tall 
as I having to stand upright and do my 
duty ; but you, — why, you are no taller 
than one of my green pods that I am 
filling with floss — ” 

“ And not half so tall as one of my 
leaves that I must line with velvet,” in- 
terrupted the mullein-stalk again. 

The dandelions looked grieved for a 
moment, but answered brightly : “ Why, 
don’t you know ? It must be because 
you live so far away — there by the 
fence — that you don’t know we are here 
to pin the grass down until it grows old 
enough to know it must not wander 
off like the crickets, or to blow away 
like the floss in your own pods. Young 
grass is very foolish, — I think I heard 


176 


Jock O Dreams . 


the farmer call it green the other day, 
but we don’t like the expression our- 
selves, — and it would be apt to do 
flighty things if we did n’t pin it down 
where it belongs. When we have 
taught it its lesson, we can go to sleep. 
We always stay until the last minute, 
and then we slip on our white nightcaps, 

— so fluffy and light and soft they are, 

— and lo ! some day we are gone, no 
one knows where but the wind ; and he 
carries us off in his arms, for we are too 
tired to walk ; and then we rest until the 
next year, when we are bright and early 
at our task again.” 

Then the milkweed and the mullein- 
stalk bowed very gravely and respect- 
fully to the little dandelions., and said, — 

“Yes, we see. Even such wee things 
as you have your duties, and we are sorry 
you are so weary.” 


Marie and the Meadow-Brook. 177 

So the milkweed whispered to the 
breeze that the dandelions were too 
warm, and begged it to help them ; but 
the breeze murmured very gently, — 

“ I don’t know what is the mat- 
ter with me, dear milkweed, but I 
am so faint, so faint, I think I shall 
die.” 

And sure enough, the next day the 
little breeze had died, and then they 
knew how they missed him, even 
though he had been so weak for the 
last few days ; for the sun glared down 
fiercely, and the meadow thought it 
was angry, and was so frightened it 
grew feverish and parched with very 
dread. 

“ We wish our parasols were larger,” 
sighed the toadstools ; “ but they are 
so small that, try as we may, we can- 
not get them to cast a large shadow, 


12 


178 Jock O' Dreams. 

and now the breeze has died we have 
no messenger. If only one knew how 
to get word to the clouds ! ” 

But the clouds had done such steady 
duty through the spring that they 
thought they were entitled to a holiday, 
and had gone to the mountain-tops, 
where they were resting calmly, feeling 
very grand among such an assembly of 
crowned heads. 

Meanwhile the meadow grew browner 
and browner, and its pretty dress was 
being scorched so that by and by no 
one would have recognized it for the gay 
thing it had been a week ago. And 
still the sun glared angrily down, and 
the little breeze was dead. 

Then the grasses laid down their tiny 
spears, and the dandelions bent their 
heads, and the locusts and the crickets 
and the grasshoppers called feebly, — 


Mane and the Meadow-Brook. 179 

“ Oh, little brook, cannot you get out 
of your bed and come this way ? ” 

“ Our hearts are broken,” cried the 
daisies. 

“We shall die,” wailed the ragged- 
sailors. Then they all waited for the 
brook to reply ; but she was silent, and 
call as they w r ould they could get no 
answer. 

“ Hush ! ” whispered the springs. 
“ Her bed is empty. Have n’t you 
noticed how little she sang lately ? The 
weeds must have fallen asleep and she 
has run away. You know they always 
hindered her.” 

They did not tell that they were too 
weak to feed the brook ; so it had dried 
away. And still the sun glared down, 
and the little breeze was dead, and the 
brook had disappeared ; while there on 
the door-step sat Marie weeping big 


180 Jock O Dreams. 

tears, — for the little maid was always 
sad, and come when you would, there 
was Marie with her dark eyes filled and 
brimming over with the shining drops. 

The beeches beckoned her from the 
garden ; she saw them do it. Their 
long branches waved to her to come, 
like inviting arms ; and still weeping, 
she stole quietly away. 

“ Come,” whispered the gnarled apple- 
trees down in the orchard ; and she 
threaded her way sadly among the 
trunks, while her tears fell splash, splash, 
on her white pinafore. 

“ Here ! ” gasped the meadow-grass ; 
and she followed on, sobbing softly to 
herself, as she sat down where, days ago, 
the brook had merrily sung. 

“ Why do you grieve ? ” asked the 
pebbles ; and she heard them and an- 
swered, — 


















































































































































































































And her tears fell faster and faster and larger and larger. — Page 181. 


* 



Marie and the Meadow-Brook . 1 8 1 

“ Because I am so sad. Things are 
never as I want them, and so I cry. I 
am made to obey, and then, when the 
stars come out and I wish to stay up, I 
am sent to bed ; and the next morning, 
when I am so sleepy I can hardly open 
my eyes, I am made to get up. Oh, 
this is a very sad world ! ” And she 
wept afresh. 

Then the flowers and the grasses and 
the pebbles, seeing her tears, all said at 
once : “ Would you like to stay here 
with us? Then you could stay awake 
all night and gaze at the stars, and in 
the morning you need not get up. You 
may lie in the brook’s empty bed, and 
you need never obey your parents any 
more.” 

Marie was silent a moment, and then 
a hundred small voices said, “ Do, oh, 
do!” And her tears fell faster and 


182 


Jock O' Dreams . 


more fast, and larger and larger, for she 
felt more abused than ever now the 
meadow had shown her sympathy, as 
she thought. She kept dropping tears 
so quickly that by and by even her sob- 
bing could scarcely be heard for the 
splash, splash, of the many drops that 
were falling on the white pebbles in the 
brook’s bed. 

How they fell ! The brown eyes 
grew dim, and Marie could not see. 
She felt tiny hands pulling her down — 
down; and in a moment she had ceased 
to be a little girl and had become a 
brook, while her weeping was the mur- 
mur of little waves as they plashed 
against the stones. 

Yes, it was true ! 

She need never go to sleep when the 
stars came out ; she need never get out 
of her bed in the morning, — how could 


Marie and the Meadow- Brook. 183 

she when the strong weeds hindered her, 
— and how could a brook obey when 
people spoke ? 

And meanwhile the meadow grew gay 
again, for the brook cooled its fever; 
and by and by the dandelions tied on 
their large, fluffy nightcaps and disap- 
peared, and the sun ceased to glare — 
for Marie was gone from the door-step 
with her weeping, and he need not look 
down on the ungrateful little maid who 
ought to have been so happy. The 
clouds came back ; and when they heard 
how the meadow had suffered they wept 
for sympathy, and the underground 
springs grew strong, until one day there 
was a great commotion in the meadow. 

A little bird had told the whole story 
of Marie’s woe to the breeze, and he 
rose and sighed aloud; the trees tossed 
their arms about, because it was so 


1 84 Jock O Dreams. 

wicked in a little girl to be ungrateful. 
The crickets said, “ Tut, tut ! ” in a very 
snappy way ; and at last the great wind 
rose, and whipped the poor brook until 
it grew quite white with foam and fear. 

Then Marie knew how naughty she 
had been, and she made no complaint 
at her punishment. In fact, she bore it 
so meekly that after the wind had 
quieted down and the stormy flurry was 
over, she began to sing her quiet little 
song again, although she was very tired 
of it by this time, and was so meek and 
patient that all the meadow whispered : 
“ Good little thing now, — good little 
thing ! ” and then they told her how 
everything in the world, no matter how 
small it is, has a duty to perform, and 
should do its task cheerfully and gladly, 
and not weep and complain when it 
thinks matters are not going in the right 


Marie and the Meadow-Brook . 185 

way, but try to keep on with its task 
and relief will come. 

Marie listened like an obedient little 
brook as she was, and was just going 
to float another merry little bubble to 
the little reeds below when she heard 
a voice say, “ Give me my bed ; I want 
it,” and lo! there was the real brook 
come back. She pushed Marie aside 
and hurt her, though she seemed so 
gentle. 

Marie tried to rise, but it was diffi- 
cult ; her limbs were stiff lying all this 
time in the meadow, her eyes were 
weary gazing at the sky, and her 
voice hoarse with the song she had 
been forced to sing. 

She tried again, and this time she suc- 
ceeded ; and behold ! there she was on 
the door-step, and the sun was going 
down. 



NINA’S CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 



NINA’S CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 



ARK! What was that? 

Nina stood still in the 
wintry blast and listened. 
The wind rushed upon her wildly, and 
dragged her tattered skirt this way and 
that, and fleered at her, and whistled 
at her ; and when she paid not the 
slightest attention to his cruel treat- 
ment of her, fled tumultuously down 
the street. 

It was a wretched, shivering little 
figure that he left behind him, — a small 
girl, with coal-black hair escaping from 
the folds of a bright kerchief that was 
tied about it; with immense dark eyes, 
that seemed to light up her poor, 


Jock O' Dreams . 


190 

pinched face and make it beautiful ; 
with tattered dress and torn shoes, and 
with something clutched tightly beneath 
her arm, — something that she tried un- 
successfully to shield from the weather 
beneath her wretched rag of a shawl, 
that was so insufficient to shield even 
her. She was listening intently to the 
sounds of an organ that came pealing 
forth into the dusk from within the 
enormous church before whose doors 
she was standing. 

Louder, fuller swelled the majestic 
cords, and then — Nina strained her 
ears to listen — and then the sweetest, 
tenderest voice imaginable seemed to 
be singing to her of all the most beau- 
tiful things of which she had ever 
dreamed. It drew her toward it by the 
influence of its plaintiveness; and first 
one step and then another she took in 


Ninas Christmas Gifts . 191 

its direction until she was within the 
huge doors, and found herself standing 
upon a white marble floor, with won- 
derful paintings on the lofty ceiling 
above her head, and a sense of deli- 
cious warmth all about her. But, alas ! 
where was the singer? The thrilling 
notes were still falling upon her ear 
with caressing sweetness ; but they 
seemed to come from beyond, — from 
far beyond. 

Before her she saw more doors. Per- 
haps if she slipped through these she 
might come in sight of the owner of 
.the voice. 

“ It is the Santa Maria,” murmured 
Nina to her heart. “ And she is sing- 
ing to the Bambinetto, — to the San- 
tissimo Bambino. Ah, yes, it must 
be the Santa Maria, for who else 
could have a voice like that, — so sweet 


192 Jock O' Dreams . 

and soft, yet so heavenly clear and 
pure ? ” 

No one she had ever heard could sing 
like that. Not Luisa who sang for 
pennies on the street, nor Guilia, nor 
Edwiga, nor yet Filomena herself, who 
was so proud of her voice and who 
carolled lustily all day long. No, no, it 
must be the Santa Maria. 

Telemacho (Telemacho was a neigh- 
bor who played upon the harp and 
sometimes let Nina go with him on his 
tramps, to sing and play upon her fiddle, 
but oftener" forced her to go alone, — 
they earned more so, he said) had often 
told her about the Santa Maria and the 
Gesu Bambino. Oh, it was a beautiful 
story, and — ah ! ah ! of course it was 
the Santa Maria. Was not this the 
Festa del Gesu Bambino? To be sure, 
it was, and she had forgotten. No 


Ninas Christmas Gifts . 193 

wonder the Santa Maria was singing to 
the Bambinetto. To-morrow would be 
his birthday, his festa. 

She would go to the blessed Madre 
and say, — 

“ Ah, Madre mia , I heard thee sing- 
ing to the Bambino, and it was so sweet, 
so sweet, I could not help but follow, 
I love it so.” 

She stepped softly to the heavy doors, 
and with her whole weight bracing 
against one, pushed it softly open and 
passed through. Ah ! but it was beau- 
tiful here. • 

Far, far above her head shone out 
dimly a hundred sparks of light like 
twinkling stars. And everywhere hung 
garlands of green, sweet-smelling gar- 
lands of green, that filled the place 
with their spicy fragrance. And no 
one need grow weary here for lack of 
13 


i 9 4 


Jock O Dreams . 


resting-place. Why, it was quite filled 
with seats, soft-cushioned and comfort- 
able. Nina stole into one of the pews 
and sat down. She was very tired, — 
very, very tired. 

From her dim corner she peeped 
forth timidly, scarcely daring to raise 
her eyes lest the vision of the radiant 
Madonna should burst upon her view 
all too suddenly. But when at last she 
really gazed aloft to the point from 
which the tremulous voice sprung, no 
glorified figure met her view. She still 
heard the melting, thrilling tones, but, 
alas! the blessed singer — the Santa 
Maria — was invisible. All she could 
distinguish in the half-gloom of the 
place was the form of a man seated in 
the lofty gallery overhead. He was 
sitting before some kind of instrument, 
and his fingers slipping over the keys 


195 


Nina s Christmas Gifts . 

were bringing forth the most wonderful 
sounds. Ah, yes! Nina knew what 
music one could make with one’s fin- 
gers. Did not Telemacho play upon 
the harp ? Did not she herself accom- 
pany her own singing upon her fiddle, — 
her darling fiddle, which she clasped 
lovingly beneath her arm and bravely 
tried to shield from the weather? But 
surely, surely he could not be playing 
that voice ! Oh, no ! it was the Santa 
Maria, and she was up in heaven out 
of sight. It was only the sound of her 
singing that had come to earth. Poor 
little Nina! She was so often disap- 
pointed that it was not very hard to 
miss another joy. She must comfort 
herself by finding a reason for it. If 
there was a reason, it was not so hard. 
Nina had to think of a great many 
reasons. But nevertheless she could 


196 Jock O' Dreams . 

not control one little sigh of regret. 
She would so much have liked to see 
the Santa Maria. If she had seen her, 
she thought she would have asked her to 
give her a Christmas gift, — something 
she could always keep, something that 
no one could take from her and that 
would never spoil nor break. One had 
need of just such an indestructible pos- 
session if one lived in the “ Italian 
Quarter.” Things got sadly broken 
there. And — and — there were so few, 
so very few gifts. But it was warm and 
dim and sweet in here, — a right good 
place in which to rest when one was 
tired. She bent her head and leaned 
it against the wooden back of the seat, 
and her eyes wandered first to one in- 
teresting object and then to another, — 
to the tall windows, each of which was 
a most beautiful picture, and all made 


Ninas Christmas Gifts. 197 

of wonderfully colored glass ; to the 
frescoed walls garlanded with green 
and at last to the organ-loft itself, in 
which was the solitary figure of the 
musician, seated before that strange, 
many-keyed instrument of his, practis- 
ing his Christmas music. 

He had lit the gas-jets at either side 
of the key-board, and they threw quite 
a light upon him as he played, and 
upon the huge organ-pipes above his 
head. Nina thought she had never 
seen anything as beautiful as were their 
illuminated surfaces. She did not know 
what they were, but that did not matter. 
She thought they looked very much 
like exceedingly pointed slippers set 
upright upon their toes. She fancied 
they were slippers belonging to the 
glorious angels who, Telemacho said, 
always came to earth at Christmas-tide 


198 Jock O' Dreams. 

to sing heavenly anthems for the Festa 
del Gesu Bambino, and to distribute 
blessings to those who were worthy. 

Perhaps they had trod upon the ice 
outside, and had wet the soles of their 
slippers, so that they had been forced 
to set them up on end to dry. She 
had no doubt they would be gone in 
the morning. 

The tremulous voice had ceased some 
time ago, and now the organ was send- 
ing forth deep, heavy chords that made 
the air thrill and vibrate. The pew in 
which Nina sat quite shook with the 
sounds, and she shrank away from the 
wooden back, and cuddled down upon 
the cushion in the seat, feeling very 
mysterious and awestruck, but withal 
quite warm and happily expectant. 

“ Ah, ah ! ” she thought, “ they are 
coming, — the angels are coming. That 



“ She shrank away from the wooden back, and cuddled down upon 
the cushion in the seat.” — Page 198. 
















i 9 9 


Ninas Christmas Gifts. 

is why the seat trembles so. There are 
so many of them that though they step 
very lightly it shakes the ground. He, 
up there, is playing their march music 
for them. Oh, I know ! I know ! I 
have seen the soldiers in the streets; 
and when they came one could feel the 
ground tremble, and they had music, 
too, — they kept step to it. I ’ll lie very 
still and not move, and maybe I can 
even get a glimpse of the Gesu Bam- 
bino himself, and if I should — ah! if I 
should, then I know I ’d never be tired 
nor cold nor sad-hearted any more.” 

Nina started suddenly to her feet. 
The place was filled with a soft, white 
radiance. Faintly, as though from a 
distance, came the sounds of delicious 
music, and a rare fragrance was in all 
the air. What was it? Oh, what was 
it ? She felt her heart beat louder 


200 


Jock O' Dreams . 


and faster, and she thought she must 
cry out for very pain of its throbbing. 
But she made no sound, only waited 
and watched in breathless wonder and 
anticipation. 

The light about her grew clearer and 
more lustrous; the faint strains of mel- 
ody more glorious, and the perfumed 
air sweeter still ; and lo ! the whole 
place was thronged with white-winged 
spirits, clad all in garments so pure and 
spotless that they glistered at every 
turn. Each seemed to have in charge 
some precious treasure which she clasped 
lovingly to her breast, and all were so 
beautiful and tender-eyed that Nina could 
not be afraid. The dazzling forms flit- 
ted to and fro like filmy clouds ; and as 
one passed very near her, Nina stretched 
out her hand to grasp her floating 
robe. But though she scarcely touched 


201 


Ninas Christmas Gifts . 

it, it was enough to make the delicate 
fabric sag and droop as if some strange 
weight had suddenly been attached to 
it. Its wearer paused in her flight, and 
glanced down at her garment anxiously, 
and then for an instant appeared to be 
trying to remember something. In her 
eyes there grew a troubled look, but she 
shook her head and murmured, — 

“ Alas ! What have I done ? What 
can I have done ? I can think of no 
way in which I have let the world 
touch me, and yet I must have, for my 
robe is weighted, and — ” But here she 
suddenly espied Nina. 

“ Ah ! ” she cried, her deep eyes clear- 
ing, “it was you, then, little mortal. 
For a moment I was struck with fear. 
You see if a bit of the world attaches to 
our garments it makes them heavy and 
weighs them down, and it is a long 


202 


Jock O Dreams. 


time ere they regain their lightness. 
Such a mishap seldom occurs, for gen- 
erally we are only too glad to keep our 
minds on perfect things. But once in 
a long, long while we may give a 
thought to earth, and then it always 
hangs upon us like a clog; and if we 
did not immediately try to shake it off, 
we should soon be quite unable to rid 
ourselves of it, and it would grow and 
grow, and by and by we should have 
lost the power to rise above the earth, 
and should have to be poor worldlings 
like the rest ; and, on the other hand, 
if the worldlings would only throw off 
all the earth-thoughts that weigh them 
down, they would become lighter and 
more spotless, and at last be one of us. 
But if it was you who touched my robe 
and if I can help you, I am not afraid. 
What do you wish, little one ? ” 


Ninas Christmas Gifts. 203 

For a moment Nina could find no 
voice in which to reply ; but by and by 
she gained courage to falter out, — 

“ I came in here because I heard most 
beautiful music, and I thought it might 
be the Santa Maria singing to the Bam- 
binetto, since it is his birthday — or will 
be to-morrow ; and I thought — I did not 
mean to do wrong, but I thought may- 
be if I could see the Gesu Santissimo 
once, only once, I should never be tired 
nor cold nor sad-hearted any more. 
They say on the Festa del Gesu Bambi- 
no one gets most beautiful gifts. I have 
never got any gifts ; but perhaps he 
might give me one if I promised to be 
very good and to take most excellent 
care of it and never to lose it.” 

By this time the whole company of 
spirits, seeing their sister in conversation 
with a little mortal, had crowded eagerly 


204 Jock O' Dreams. 

about; and as Nina finished her sen- 
tence they all cried out in the sweetest, 
most musical chorus imaginable, — 

“ She wants a gift, — the earth-child 
wants a gift; and she promises to be 
very good, and to take excellent care of 
it and never lose it. The little one 
shall have a gift.” 

But most gently they were silenced 
by a nod from the spirit to whom Nina 
had first spoken. 

“ Dear child,” she said, “ we are the 
Christmas spirits, — Peace, Love, Hope, 
Good-will, and all the rest. We come 
from above, and we are laden with good 
gifts for mankind. To whomever is 
willing to receive we give ; but, alas ! 
so few care for what we bring. They 
misuse it or lose it ; and that makes 
us very sad, for each gift we carry is 
most good and perfect.” 


Ninas Christmas Gifts . 205 

“ Oh ! how can they ? ” cried Nina. 
“ I would be so careful of mine, dear 
spirits. I would lock it away, and — ” 
But here the spirit interrupted her 
with a pitying smile and the words, — 

“ But you should never do that, dear 
one. If one shuts away one’s gifts and 
does not let others profit by them, that 
is ill too. One must make the best of 
them, share them with the world always, 
and remember whence they come.” 

“ Will you show me some of your 
gifts ? ” asked Nina, timidly. 

The spirit drew nearer and took from 
her bosom a glittering gem. It was 
clear and flawless, and though it was 
white a thousand sparks of flame broke 
from its heart, and flashed their different 
hues to every side. As Nina looked, 
wrapped in admiration, she felt her 
heart grow big, and she felt a great 


206 Jock O Dreams . 

longing to do some one a kindness, — 
to do good to some one, no matter to 
whom. 

The spirits gazed at her kindling eyes. 

“ There ! ” they cried in joyous uni- 
son, “ Love has already given you her 
gift. The way you must use it is al- 
ways to put in everything you do. It 
will never grow less, but will always 
grow more if you do as we say. And 
it is the same with Hope and Peace 
and Good-will and all the rest. If all 
to whom we give our gifts should use 
them aright, the world would hold a 
festival all the year.” 

And at this all the blessed throng 
closed about her, and loaded her down 
with their offerings, until she was quite 
overcome with gratitude and emotion. 

“ All we ask is that you use them 
well,” they repeated with one accord. 


Nina's Christmas Gifts . 207 

“ Let nothing injure them, for some 
day you will be called to account for 
them all, you know. And now you 
are to have a special gift, — one by 
which you can gain world-praise and 
world-glory. And oh! be careful of it, 
dear; it will gain for you great good 
if you do not abuse it, and you need 
never be tired nor cold nor sad-hearted 
any more — ” 

“ But I have no place to keep all 
these things,” cried Nina. ‘ I have 
no home. I live anywhere. I am only 
a poor little Italian singing-girl. I — ” 
“ Keep them in your heart,” answered 
the spirits, softly; and then one of them 
bent over and kissed her upon the lips. 

“ Ah, gracia , gracia, — thanks, 
thanks ! ” she cried ; but even as she 
spoke she sank back in dismay, for 
everything about her was dark and 


208 


Jock O' Dreams . 


still, and for a moment she did not 
know where she was. Then groping 
blindly about in the shadow, she felt 
the wooden back of the pew in which 
she sat, and then she remembered. 

But the gifts, — the spirits’ Christmas 
gifts to her. Where were they? For 
a long time she searched, stretching 
out her hand and passing it over 
cushion, bench, and floor ; but all in 
vain. No heavenly object met her 
grasp, and at last she gave a poor little 
moan of disappointment and sorrow, — 

“ It was only a dream after all, — only 
a dream.” 

But now through the tall windows 
stole a faint streak of light. It grew 
ever stronger, and by its aid Nina made 
her way to the doors, in order to escape 
from the church in which she had slept 
away the night. But alas ! they were 


209 


Ninas Christmas Gifts. 

closed and fastened tight. She could 
not get out. She wandered to and fro 
through the silent aisles, growing quite 
familiar with the dusky place and feel- 
ing not at all afraid. She thought over 
her dream, and recalled the fact that it 
was Christmas Day, — the Festa del 
Gesu Bambino. 

“ It was a dream,” she mused ; “ but 
it was a beautiful one ! Perhaps the 
spirits gave it to me for my Christmas 
gift. Perhaps the Gesu bade them give 
it me for my Christmas gift ; ” and just 
as a glorious burst of sunshine struck 
through the illuminated windows, she 
took up her little fiddle, raised her bow 
and her voice at the same time, and 
sang out in worshipful gratitude, — 

“ Mira, cuor mio durissimo, 

II bel Bambin Gesu, 

Che in quel presepe asprissimo, 

Or lo fai nascer tu ! ” 


14 


210 Jock O' Dreams, 

She did not hear a distant door open, 
nor did she see through it the man who 
had unconsciously lured her into the 
church the evening before by the power 
of his playing. No ; she was conscious 
of nothing but her singing and the 
sweet, long notes she was drawing with 
her bow from the strings of her beloved 
violin. 

But she did hear, after she had fin- 
ished, a low exclamation, and then she 
did see that same man hastening toward 
her with outstretched hands. 

“ Child, child,” he cried, “ how came 
you here ! And such a voice ! such a 
voice ! Why, it is a gift from Heaven ! ” 

And amid all the excitement that fol- 
lowed, — the excitement of telling who 
she was and hearing that she was to be 
taken care of and given a home and 
trained to sing, — that, in fact, she was 


Ninas Christmas Gifts. 2 1 1 

never to be tired nor cold nor sad- 
hearted any more, — she had time to 
think, — 

“ Ah ! now I know. It was not a 
dream ; it was the truth. I have all my 
gifts in my heart for safe keeping. And 
my voice — hear ! the player-man says it 
is a gift from Heaven. And oh, I will 
always use it with love and good-will, as 
the spirits bade me. They said if every 
one did so it would be a festa all the 
year.” 


THE END. 


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Roberts Brothers Juvenile Books. 


Dear Daughter Dorothy. 

BY MISS A. G. PLYMPTON. 

With seven illustrations by the author. Small 4to. Cloth. 


PRICE, $1.00. 



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